Grace had never been in New York before and Miss Reynolds gave her
every opportunity to see the sights. The investigation of devices
for housing business women Miss Reynolds pursued with her usual
thoroughness, broadening her inquiry to include a survey of the
general social effort in the metropolis. She accepted no invitations
in which Grace could not be included, with the result that they dined
or had luncheon in half a dozen private homes, and were entertained in
fashionable restaurants and at the Colony Club.
“You’re so good to me!” said Grace one night when they reached their
hotel after a dinner at the house of some old friends of Miss Reynolds.
“All the guests were somebody except me! I wonder what they’d think
if they knew that only a little while ago I was Number Eighteen in
Shipley’s!”
“They knew you were good to look at,” Miss Reynolds replied, “and
talked well and had very pretty manners. Nothing else was any of their
business.”
“But sometimes--sometimes, Cousin Beulah, when your friends are so kind
and treat me so beautifully, I can’t help thinking that if they knew
about me----”
“My dear Grace, this busy world’s a lot kinder than it gets credit for
being! Even if the world knew it wouldn’t condemn you.”
They had visited a settlement house on the East Side one morning and
were driving to Washington Square for luncheon with a friend of Miss
Reynolds who lived in one of the old houses which she said Grace ought
to see.
“We’re a bit early for our engagement,” Miss Reynolds remarked as they
reached Broadway. “We’ve got half an hour to look at Trinity.”
They walked quickly through the yard, that Grace might experience the
thrill of reading the historic names on the grave-stones, and entered
the church. It was the noon hour and sightseers mingling with the
employees from the towering buildings came and went. Miss Reynolds and
Grace sat down in a pew near the door. A service was in progress and
Grace, unfamiliar with liturgic churches, at once fixed her attention
on the chancel. The minister’s voice reciting the office, the sense of
age communicated by the walls of the edifice, all had their effect on
her. She felt singularly alone. The heartache that had troubled her
little since she left home again became acute. Here was peace, but it
was a peace that mocked rather than calmed the spirit....
... “We humbly beseech thee for all sorts and conditions of men.”...
The mournful cadence of the prayer only increased her loneliness. She
was like a child who, watching night descend in a strange place, is
overcome by a stifling nostalgia. Her throat ached with inexpressible
emotions; her heart fluttered like a wild bird in her breast. She knew
she wanted Trenton; nothing else mattered; no one else could ever fill
his place. She bowed her head and her lips trembled.
A man walked hesitatingly down the aisle and slipped into a pew in
front of her. Apparently he was one of the many who were seeking
relief from the world’s turmoil. She remained motionless, staring. It
was unbelievable that it could be Trenton; and yet beyond question it
was he. His coming was like an answer to prayer. She recalled what
he had written after his illness, that he had thought of her once so
intently that he had brought her into the room....
She remembered that he had once told her that his New York office was
near Trinity. Perhaps it was his habit to drop in as he passed.
Miss Reynolds, turning the pages of a prayer book, evidently had not
noticed, or had failed to recognize him. Presently she glanced at her
watch, touched Grace’s arm and nodded that it was time to go. As they
paused in the entry to look at the bronze doors Grace decided not to
tell her friend that Trenton was in the church; but suddenly he stood
beside them.
“This is surely more than a coincidence,” he said, smiling gravely as
he shook hands. “I pass here every day but I hadn’t been in before for
years. But today----”
They walked together to the gate, Grace silent, Miss Reynolds and
Trenton discussing the weather to cover their embarrassment. Grace,
still awed by his appearance, saw that he looked careworn; even when he
smiled at some remark of Miss Reynolds his eyes scarcely brightened.
“I have a taxi here somewhere.” Miss Reynolds was glancing about
uncertainly when the machine drew in at the curb.
“Are you staying in town long?” asked Trenton as he opened the cab door.
“Only a few days,” Miss Reynolds replied guardedly. “Grace and I are
here on a little business. I wonder----”
Without finishing the sentence she stepped into the car and gave the
Washington Square address. Trenton rousing as he realized that they
were about to leave him, bent forward and took Grace’s hand.
“It’s so good to see you!” he said steadily. “I’m going West tonight.
Mrs. Trenton’s been very ill; she’s in a sanitarium in Connecticut.”
Then, aware that he couldn’t detain them longer, “Miss Reynolds, I’m
sure you and Miss Durland will take good care of each other!”
“Good-bye,” said Grace faintly and watched him disappear in the crowd.
“I was going to ask him to come and dine with us,” said Miss Reynolds
when the car was in motion, “but I changed my mind. And now I wish I
could change it again!”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” Grace answered colorlessly. “It would have been
a mistake.”
“Well, perhaps.” And Trenton was not referred to again.
But all the rest of the day Grace lived upon the memory of his look,
his voice. He was still in a world she knew; any turn of the long road
might bring him in sight again.
V
A week in Chicago followed a fortnight in New York and Grace had filled
a large portfolio with notes and pamphlets bearing upon Miss Reynolds’s
projected house for business girls. Her mother’s letters had kept her
informed of family affairs and she was prepared to find Ethel gone and
Roy’s wife established in the house. Ethel had refused to be married at
home and the ceremony had been performed by Dr. Ridgely in his study,
with only Mrs. Durland present to represent the family. Ethel and Haley
had left at once for Cincinnati, where they were to make their home.
“I did the best I could about it, Grace,” Mrs. Durland kept repeating
pathetically. “I hated to have her go that way, but she would do it.
She said some pretty unkind things to your father after you left, and
he didn’t go to see her married.”
For Sadie, the new member of the family, Grace formed an immediate
liking. The girl was so anxious to be friendly and to do her share of
the domestic labor and so appreciative of kindness that she brought
a new element of cheer into the household. She was intelligent, and
amusing, after a slangy fashion; even Stephen Durland laughed at her
jokes.
Grace found that her position as secretary to Miss Reynolds was far
from being a sinecure. She was present at all the conferences with the
architect who had now been engaged, and when the announcement of the
new club for business girls could no longer be deferred it fell to
Grace’s lot to answer the letters that poured in upon Miss Reynolds. A
bedroom was fitted up as an office and there Grace spent half of every
day, keeping accounts, typing letters and answering the importunities
of the telephone.
One day in June Grace went to Judge Sanders’ office on an errand for
Miss Reynolds. It was merely a matter of leaving an abstract of title
for examination, but as she was explaining what was wanted to the
office girl John Moore came out of one of the inner rooms.
“Caught in the act!” he exclaimed. “I’ve just been hankering to see
you. Can’t you give me a few minutes, right now?”
She was really in a hurry, but when he earnestly protested that he had
business with her she followed him into a room whose door bore the
inscription: “Mr. Moore.”
“That looks terribly important, John,” she said indicating the
lettering. “Onward and upward!”
“Well,” he said, when they were seated. “Mr. Kemp’s death has thrown
a lot of business into the office and some of it that doesn’t require
much brain power they leave to me. Mr. Trenton just left a few minutes
ago. He came in to see if I’d go down into Knox County to inventory a
coal mine Kemp owned. I’m getting a lot of little jobs like that.”
She smiled, as he wanted her to, at his boyish pride in his work. She
derived a deep pleasure from the thought that Trenton had just been
there. Trenton would appreciate John’s qualities; they would appreciate
each other’s qualities and talents.
“Maybe you don’t know,” John went on, “and maybe I oughtn’t to tell
you; but right here on my desk are the papers for your father to
sign away his rights in his motor patents and his formula for that
non-breakable spark-plug porcelain you probably know about. Your
father’s coming in tomorrow to sign up. Mr. Trenton has left a check
here for advance royalties that will pay the Durland grocery bill for
sometime to come!”
“Do you mean it, John! I’d been afraid Mr. Kemp’s death would end all
that.”
“Trenton’s the whole cheese in that business now and he knows what he’s
doing. He says those two things are bound to earn your father a lot of
money.”
“Father certainly deserves any success that may come to him. I’m so
glad for him and mother--just now when things at home don’t look
particularly bright.”
“You’re thinking of Roy? Well, Roy will get his law degree but that boy
had no more business in the law than I’d have in a millinery shop. I
sneaked him up here last Sunday and had Mr. Trenton take a look at him.
You know Roy’s a smart, likable chap, with a friendly way of meeting
people and I thought maybe there was a job somewhere in the Kemp
organization that he’d fit into.”
“I don’t know--” began Grace, doubtfully, remembering Roy’s anger at
John’s meddling.
“Oh, Roy took it fine! Mr. Trenton’s taken a fancy to him; in fact
they liked each other immensely. Roy’s to get his sheepskin and then
go right into the Kemp factory for six months to get an idea of the
business and then transfer to the sales department.”
“Why, John, that’s wonderful!” exclaimed Grace. “You don’t _know_ how
relieved I am.”
“You’re not half as relieved as Roy is to dodge the law,” John
chuckled. “That boy will make good. I’d told Mr. Trenton all about him
and he was as kind to him as a father. Roy wanted me to ask you to
spring the news on his mother. She’s so keen about having him a lawyer
that he’s afraid to tell her himself.”
“Yes, John; I’ll do it tonight. And thank you! Oh, thank you for
everything!”