DR. MYERS "LENDS A HAND."
"Now make us strong, we need Thy deep revealing
Of trust and strength and calmness from above."
AT Westville, Thursday's programme was carried out. A quiet wedding,
a small dinner party, after which, the newly married pair quietly
established themselves in their own home.
Upon Friday, Mr. McNair received Duncan's note, which ran thus:
"CARYL. Tuesday.
"DEAR FATHER:—This is to say that you need not make a commotion about
my coming back. It might hurt Mrs. McNair's pride to have it noised
about that her son is a runaway. I think I will defer paying my
respects to that lady until I have time to prepare my speech. You need
not inquire for me at Caryl. I shall not be there. When I have anything
worth saying, I'll write.
"DUNCAN."
The strong man groaned as he read this apparently heartless note.
"My poor boy! My poor foolish boy! May God help us!"
Already Jenny and her mother had begun to wonder when Dunny would come,
and Judge McNair shrank from imparting the sorrowful news he had just
received. If it were only possible to find him and bring him back,
without ever revealing the truth; but where should he look for him—how
trace him out? Where could he have gone without money?
Here a thought ran through the father's mind. Duncan had a small sum in
the Savings Bank, deposited in his own name, a little legacy from his
grandmother, with a few savings of his own. An inquiry brought out the
fact that he had drawn this the day he went away.
There was not the slightest clue as to the direction his wanderings
had taken. Possibly he might be traced from Caryl, but not likely—so
the bewildered man thought; the strong man, the far-seeing lawyer, the
clear-headed judge was at his wits' end. Things looked very dark to
him, until he had talked it over with his wife and Jenny, who, though
terribly shocked and pained, were hopeful.
"We must find him and bring him back," said Mrs. McNair. "Some one
ought to go to Caryl, and see what can be learned there. He could
hardly stay there four or five days, and let fall no hint of his plans."
"True, true," responded the judge, and while they were talking and
planning, Nancy announced that Dr. Myers was in the parlour.
"Just the one to advise with!" said Mabel.
Going to meet his guest, who had called to pay his respects to the
bride, Mr. McNair said—
"You find us in trouble," and then suddenly he asked—
"Can you leave town tonight upon a mission of great importance?"
Much astonished, the doctor replied, "Why, this is a sudden proposal;
but, if necessary, I might. But to go where, and stay how long?"
"I will explain," which Mr. McNair proceeded to do, adding, "If you
could start tonight, and return to-morrow noon, I could be ready to
follow a clue, should you find one. The widow Fletcher's case is to be
argued to-morrow, and I should not feel justified in leaving unless
absolutely necessary. I could trust you."
"Thank you—I will go."
Upon taking leave of the McNairs, Dr. Myers went directly to the office
of his friend and counsellor, Dr. Maxwell.
"Doctor, could you do me a favour?"
"I certainly will, if I can," replied Dr. Maxwell. "You have done me
too many to allow a refusal."
Explaining that a sudden and imperative call would take him out of town
for a longer or shorter period, he requested the doctor to take charge
of his patients. This matter being arranged, he wrote the following
note:
"MR. CLARKE:—I am suddenly called from home. Doubtful if I return for
Sunday. Please look up a teacher for my class. I suggest Mrs. Bradford,
but I have not time to see her.
"My mission is an important one. Ask God to go with me.
"Your brother in Christ,
"L. N. MYERS."
A few more hurried preparations, and he was off by the 11 o'clock
express.
The next day Judge McNair received this telegram:—
"Off for New York. Slight clue. Wait for a letter.
"L. N. MYERS."
A few hours later, a letter came, written on board the train:—
"DEAR FRIENDS:—I reached Mr. Aiken's house before breakfast. Found
your nephew Joe had gone off with Duncan. Supposed to have returned to
Westville. Left on Wednesday. Mr. Aiken and myself went to the depot
to make inquiries. Neither the ticket-agent nor the baggage-master
remembered them, and I was about giving up in despair, when a ragged
boy with a basket of peanuts on his arm said—
"'Bese you axin about Joe Aiken and another boy? 'Case Joe bought
a lot of peanuts, and t'other fellow dropt his ticket, and I picks
it up. It was a New York ticket, and I hollers,—
"'"Here, city bug, is your ticket—'taint no good to me. I've had
enough of that kind of livin'."
"'It's no livin' at all, sir.'
"This is all my clue, but it is all we need for the present. I trust
that the way will be opened to success, just as fast as I can get over
the ground. Dear friends, do not despair. God is our refuge and a very
present help. If you think best to come on to New York, meet me at
the Metropolitan; but unless you are too anxious to stay at home, it
may be as well to wait for Monday's message. I shall post this at the
next stopping place, hoping that you will get it tonight. I know your
prayers are following me, and I have strong faith that I shall bring
Duncan back with me.
"Yours,
"L. N. MYERS."
Monday evening another telegram came:—
"Be of good cheer—we are on the right track."
And two days later:—
"All right; look-out for us at 6 o'clock."
In telling Mr. McNair of the search, Dr. Myers said—
"Judge, I brought your boy home; but I hate to tell you where I found
him. Your pure, innocent boy had a narrow escape. Some day I should
like to show him the Christian side of New York. He has seen enough of
its dark side."
From long residence and several years' practice of his profession in
New York, Dr. Myers knew much of the ins and outs of the city, and was
prepared to follow up the slightest clue, and slight indeed that was.
He had taken the 10 o'clock express from Caryl, the same the boys had
travelled upon four days previous. As he was nearing the end of his
journey, the thought occurred to him that possibly the conductor might
remember the boys, and addressing that official upon his next round, he
entered into conversation with him, and presently said—
"I would like to ask if you noticed two boys travelling over this road
together on Wednesday—one a sandy-haired fellow, about fifteen years
old, wearing an overcoat of the light shade so fashionable; the other a
little older, with dark hair."
"Yes, I remember them," replied the conductor quickly; "and I set
them down as runaways, too. Just before we got into the city, one of
them, the dark-haired one—Joe, his companion called him—asked me to
direct them to a respectable boarding-house, and I said, 'Boys, the
best boarding-house you can find is your own home.' I did hate to see
two such boys going in there alone as strangers; but I directed them
to what I knew to be a decent house. This is all I can tell you about
them. I conclude I guessed right, and they were runaways?" continued
the man.
"Well, yes, they left home clandestinely. Will you give me the address
you gave them? Possibly it may be of service. Thank you. I hope they
have met with more of your sort to direct them to good places."
"May be," returned the man; "but I am afraid some of the imps of Satan
have got hold of them before this." With which comforting remark, he
moved on.
It was 5 o'clock Saturday afternoon when Dr. Myers stepped from the
car, and taking a carriage, drove directly to the street and number
given him by the conductor.
"Yes, two such boys had been there—stayed one day and left, saying it
was too far up town. Didn't know where they went, or anything about
them. They paid their bill, and an expressman took their trunk."
Undismayed, the doctor went to work; hunted up a detective, stated his
case, adding, "Those boys are in the city, I feel sure—they must be
found at any cost."
Then he sought out Herbert Bradford. To him, he said,—
"Herbert, your old friend Duncan is in this city, and I am looking for
him. It seems a hopeless search, but with God's blessing, success is
sure. I want you to make it a subject of special prayer, that he may be
restored to his home at once."
Need we say that the Sabbath that followed was a day of much prayer?
Indeed, Dr. Myers's life was a prayer—whatever he did, wherever he
went, an earnest asking for God's presence and blessing attended his
movements. And now, as he walked the streets, gazing eagerly at every
red-headed boy and every light overcoat, he repeated,—
"'Some trust in horses, some in chariots; but we will remember
the name of the Lord our God.'"
Monday afternoon, the officer appeared, saying,—
"I think I have a clue, sir. They were with a party that went over
the river yesterday, and they are stopping at one of those dens on C—
Street. I know the fellow that seems to be showing them around, and he
is a hard one, too. But I reckon we'll get hold of them tonight."
But they did not "get hold of them" that night. Another twenty-four
hours of anxious waiting and watching rolled away before Dr. Myers laid
his hand upon Duncan McNair's shoulder, and said, with unmistakable
sincerity—
"How are you, my boy? I'm glad to see you!"
Probably not even Judge McNair himself would have succeeded as well in
overcoming Duncan's unwillingness to go home; for although the foolish
fellow had seen about enough of this wonderful city (no wonder, when he
had only seen the wicked side), he was yet loth to go back.
As for Joe, the doctor was armed with the necessary legal authority, a
foresight of his father's, and for him, he had no choice; but as for
Duncan, his hold upon him was stronger than more legal power; it was
the influence which a thoroughly good man and a boy-lover must ever
exercise over boys like Duncan. As I have hinted before, Dr. Myers was
his hero and saint, and he had only to say, "Duncan, I cannot go back
without you. I promise you one thing, if matters do not go on well at
home, and you are not happy there, I will do all I can for your relief;
but now I want you to go with me," and Duncan went.
Once, as they neared home, Duncan ventured to say,—
"Do they know—people, I mean—about my going off?"
"I cannot say," returned the doctor. "I came away so suddenly, but I
presume it is not generally known; but you need not mind; you have only
to say frankly that you were foolish and mistaken, and are sorry for
it. That won't be very hard, will it?"
"No," replied Duncan slowly. "But do you suppose Miss Wynn knows about
it?"
"Miss Wynn!" repeated his friend with a puzzled expression. "Why, of
course she knows."
"I wish she didn't. She will be disappointed in me," said Duncan sadly.
"She will think it is a queer way to follow. Anyway, doctor, you won't
tell her where you found me! I couldn't bear to have her know."
Once more, he referred to "Miss Wynn" in a way that puzzled the doctor,
until a sudden light burst in upon him. He was about to speak, then
checked himself with the thought, "I won't enlighten him. I shall
rather enjoy his surprise; but how could he have made such a mistake?"
At the junction where they changed cars, they were met by Mr. Aiken,
whom the doctor had summoned by telegraph, and who took his son in
charge, much to the relief of all.
Arriving at Westville, they were welcomed at the depot by Judge McNair,
who greeted his son as though he had just returned from an ordinary
journey.
"Isn't father splendid?" whispered Duncan to his friend in the
momentary absence of the judge. "He seems just as glad to see me as if
I were the best boy in the world."
"Of course," replied the doctor.
"You are to come home with us to tea, doctor," said the judge.
Jenny was watching, and flew out to meet them. Returning her kiss of
welcome, Duncan said,—
"If you please, father, I'll run up to my room before I go into the
parlour."
"Certainly; but don't be long. I presume tea is waiting."
The boy ran up-stairs, pushed open the door of his room, and was
inside before he noted the strangeness of everything—that is, almost
everything. There was his familiar motto at the foot of the bed, and
some other familiar personal belongings. But there was fresh paper on
the walls, new curtains at the windows, and in place of the old torn
matting on the floor, there was a carpet soft to the foot and warm in
colours, an easy chair, and under the gas-light, a small table with
crimson cover, and upon it a handsomely-bound copy of the Book. A note
lay beside it, which he picked up. It ran thus:—
"Mother and Jenny have been very happy in refitting the room for our
dear Dunny. We hope he may be as happy in it. Here you can bring your
friends for quiet visits, or come alone for communion with the Friend
who is above and beyond any other friend."
Duncan whistled.
"Well, now, that is nice; but I didn't suppose she cared anything about
that Friend. I thought folks who did showed it, and I never saw her at
church in the world. Well, I promised Dr. Myers that I would try and
make the best of it, and I am going to. This is a jolly room, anyway!"
As he turned to go down, his eye fell upon a little photograph of
herself which Mabel had given him some time before, and he sighed, "If
it had only been her now!"
In the parlour, Judge McNair had said, "We have got our boy back again,
and that must do for tonight. Some other time the doctor may tell his
story."
And they were chatting of other things when Duncan entered. Rising and
passing his arm around him, his father said,—
"Duncan, will you welcome your mother as she welcomes you?"
The bewildered boy looked from one to another, and gasped, "Miss Wynn!
Mother! What—why? Oh! Why didn't somebody tell me?"
And breaking from his father's embrace, he rushed from the room.
Tea waited some time that evening. There were explanations to be made,
soothing words to be spoken, and tears to be dried. It may be doubted
if Dr. Myers enjoyed the surprise much after all, for he said,—
"I am sorry, Duncan, that I did not correct your mistake; but I was not
quite sure that you were in the dark. But how came you to make such a
blunder? Whom did you suppose your father was to marry?"
"I thought it was Miss Carver. The boys hinted at it a good while ago.
Besides I thought—you were going to marry Miss Wynn."
"Mistake number two," laughed the doctor. "See here," drawing forward a
lady whom Duncan had not noticed as making one of the group, "this is
the future Mrs. Myers."
The lady was Lou Joslyn.
"But," persisted Jenny, "I am sure, Dunny, we talked about it, and you
must have been told who it was."
"Yes, we talked about it, I know; but no one ever mentioned the name.
I suppose," he added humbly and sadly, "it all grew out of my getting
angry and making a fuss before father finished his story." And turning
to Dr. Myers, "I know you told me once that my temper would play me a
shabby trick some day."