PAYING DEBTS
Rose stood at the window as long as Great-Uncle Samuel was in sight.
Then she turned away and sitting down on a low stool by Grandmother
Sweet’s side laid her head on its chintz covered arm.
“Grandma Sweet,” she whispered softly, “I’m sorry I said what I did. I
do see God’s care and leading now.”
“Dear child,” was the smiling answer as the wrinkled hand smoothed
tenderly the plump, fair cheek, “never doubt His care and leading. It
is not often this is made so clear and it never may be to thee again,
for we are commanded to walk by faith and not by sight; but always be
sure that God’s love and care are ever over thee.”
“I know it,” was the low answer. “I will never doubt it again.”
“If thee is ever tempted to, and it will be strange if thee is not—keep
this in mind: that the Lord’s thought toward thee is always of love,
that He will lay nothing upon thee that He will not give thee strength
to bear, and no discipline whose right use will not make thee stronger
and better, and the better fitted for that abundant entrance into His
kingdom which I trust and pray may be thine.”
Twilight shadows were creeping into the room, and these two, the young
heart just opening to God’s love, and the aged heart who had tested it
through a long lifetime, sat hand in hand in the peaceful stillness.
The opening of a door aroused Rose. Silence Blossom had come in from
feeding her chickens, bringing with her a whiff of the crisp, outer
air. “Well, Rose,” as she held out her hands to the heat of the fire,
“are you a happy girl to-night?”
“Indeed I am. I thought yesterday when I knew that the money was found,
that I was happy as I could be; but I am still happier now. To think
that no one can call me a pauper any more, or twit me with being a
charity child!” Her voice choked, for every taunting reference to
her poverty had stung deep, and with all the sensitiveness of a proud
nature she had felt the bitterness of her dependent condition. “Just to
think that I can pay for what I have, and have an education. Why, it
seems too good to be true. If it were three millions I don’t believe I
could feel any richer. Of course,” she hurried to add, “I know I must
be very careful, but I wonder—do you think—that I could have a new
dress, not made over, but one bought on purpose for me; and a pair of
kid gloves—I don’t know that I could afford them, but I’ve wanted a
pair so long.”
“Yes.” Silence Blossom spoke quick and decisive. “You can have a pair
of kid gloves and a new dress. It can be neat and pretty without being
of expensive material.”
Rose hesitated a moment. “I suppose a brown or a blue dress would do me
the most service, but I’ve always wished that I could have a red dress.”
“A red dress it shall be, then,” said Miss Silence. “And you can help
me make it. I haven’t forgotten how a girl feels about her clothes,
and as long as I have any say about it you are going to have things
like other girls.”
Rose drew a blissful breath; she could hardly believe it possible. In
fact, it was a difficult matter for Rose to go to sleep that night, she
was so overflowing with happiness; and numberless were the plans as to
what she would do and be, as blissful as they were vague, that floated
through her excited mind as she lay with her eyes wide open in the
moonlight.
“I wish Ben Pancost could know,” she whispered. And then for all her
happiness she sighed a little quivering sigh, for since the day they
parted in the little parlor of the Byfield hotel, not one glimpse had
she seen or one word had she heard of Ben Pancost. He had neither come
to Farmdale at the time he had appointed, nor in any of the weeks that
followed, though she had watched for him with eyes that grew weary with
watching, and sometimes were wet with the tears of disappointment.
Rose could not understand it. Ben had been so interested in her behalf,
he had left her so full of anxiety for her welfare, with such a
positive promise of coming to see her. Nor could she doubt him. If
ever she felt inclined to do so, the remembrance of all his kindness,
of all he had been to her in the time of her sore need would come
afresh to her mind. She had but to shut her eyes to see again the
merry, sunburned face, with the straightforward, honest eyes, so full
of sympathy, and to feel the tight clasp of his warm, brown hand as he
slipped the silver dollars into it. One of these she had never spent
and whenever she looked at it there came the certainty that Ben could
not have failed her; something must have happened, and what that was
she could not imagine. Rose seldom mentioned Ben to Mrs. Blossom or
Silence, because they both inclined to the opinion that being but a boy
some fresher interest had crowded the matter from his mind. But Mrs.
Patience believed with her that he was not a boy to lightly break a
promise, and that he would have come if he could.
“I wish more than ever that I could see Ben Pancost,” she confided to
Mrs. Patience when her first check arrived, “for now I could pay him
back the money he let me have. And Ben works hard for his money, and he
may need it. If I knew where he was I would write and send it to him.”
“Oh, no, Rose!” Mrs. Patience’s sense of propriety was delicate and
old-fashioned. “It would hardly be proper for a young girl to write to
a boy.”
“But this would be different,” urged Rose. “It would be business,
paying a debt.”
“That would make a difference,” admitted Mrs. Patience, “for a lady
would not wish to rest under an obligation of that kind if she could
avoid it. But then you do not know where he is.”
“No,” admitted Rose sadly, for brief as her acquaintance with Ben
Pancost had been its circumstance had made it one of the most vivid
memories of her life; and the day spent with him, as she looked
back on it, seemed to her almost like a page out of fairyland, with
Ben himself, warm-hearted, sympathetic, loyal Ben, with his happy
self-confidence and happier confidence in God, as its knight and hero.
Then Rose’s face brightened. “For all that, I have a feeling that I
shall meet Ben again, sometime.”
“He may be dead,” suggested Mrs. Patience, whose own bereavement
sometimes gave a tinge of melancholy to her sweet nature.
“Then he has gone to heaven,” was Rose’s quick answer, “and if when I
die I go there, too, I shall be sure to meet him.”
A few days later Rose came in with her arm full of school books. “Those
are my books for next term,” as she spread them proudly on the table.
“The history is not new,” remarked Silence Blossom as she glanced them
over.
“No; Clara Brown used it last year. But it is not much soiled and
she let me have it fifty cents cheaper than a new one, and I have a
particular use for that fifty cents.”
With that Rose went up to her room and after a time came down with an
open letter in her hand. “I’ve been writing to Mrs. Hagood, and I’d
like to read it to you, and have you tell me if it’s all right.
“‘DEAR MADAM,’
“I thought first I wouldn’t say ‘dear,’” she explained, “for she never
was dear to me, one little bit; but I thought it would be polite to,
and I wanted to be polite.
“‘Perhaps you think that I ought not to have taken those things to eat
when I left your house, though they were not much more than I would
have eaten at the supper which I did not have, and the basket I put
them in was an old grape basket. So I send you fifty cents, which is
all everything is worth, and more, too!’
“Fifty cents was all Ben paid for my dinner the next day, and it was a
fine dinner.
“‘I am living with a very nice family who are so kind to me. Mrs.
Blossom found my relatives, and my real name is not Posey Sharpe,
but Rose Shannon. My grandmother had left me property, so I am not a
charity child any more, but have money of my own to pay for my board
and clothes, and an education. I like Farmdale, and have good friends
here. The paper I am writing on is from a box given me at Christmas.’”
She paused and looked from one to another. “Will that do?”
“I didn’t hear any regret for the way you left Mrs. Hagood,” said Mrs.
Blossom.
“No, nor you won’t hear any. I know I didn’t do right, but if she had
done what was right herself it wouldn’t have happened. If I’d said
anything, I should have said that, so I thought perhaps I’d better not
say anything. I’ve always felt she might say that I took what didn’t
belong to me, and I’m only too glad to send her the money. I would have
liked to have added something to Mr. Hagood, but I was afraid if I did
it would make trouble for him. She will be apt to read the letter to
him, and he will be glad to know I am so nicely settled, but it will
make her feel pretty bad to know that I can pay for my board and she
not get the money,” and Rose gave a chuckle.
“How did you sign yourself?” asked Miss Silence, who had been biting
her lips to keep from laughing.
“I just signed my name. I wasn’t going to say ‘Yours truly,’ or
‘sincerely,’ for I’m not hers, and it’s one of the joys of my life that
I never shall be.” And Rose folded the letter into its envelope and
patted on the stamp.