“I HAVE BUT TO TRY AGAIN”
“Pleasant times like we've been having to-day?” said Nimble Dick, with a
wicked leer.
If he meant to disconcert her, he missed his point.
“No!” she said, promptly, “we haven't had a bit nice times to-day, and
as for liking you, I haven't done so to-day at all. If I had the least
idea that you meant often to treat me as you have this afternoon I
should know it was of no use. But I cannot think that you will continue
to treat a lady in such a manner, particularly when I am really trying
to make a pleasant time for you. There is no object, you see, in
spoiling it.”
This plain bit of truth, for the time being so commended itself to the
judgment of the boys that they regarded the speaker gravely, without
attempting a reply. She was not moralizing; at least it was unlike any
moralizing that they had ever heard. It seemed to be simply a bit of
practical common sense. Not a boy would have owned it, but each felt,
just at that moment, a faint hope that she would _not_ decide it was
of no use, and give them up. Straightforward Tim Haskell had one more
question to ask:--
“Why didn't you let them bring in their police and settle us?”
Their teacher hesitated just a moment. Would the “whole truth” do to
speak in this case? Could she hope to make them understand that she saw
in it a step lower down, and that thus degraded before her eyes, she
feared her possible hold on them would be gone forever? No; it wouldn't
do! A little, a _very_ little piece of the truth was all that she could
treat them to. A faint sparkle in her bright eyes, which every one of
them saw, and she said:--
“I was afraid you might not be excused in time to keep your engagement
with me to-morrow evening.”
They all laughed, not boisterously, actually an appreciative laugh. They
were bright; there is hardly a street boy living by his wits who isn't.
They recognized the humor hidden in the answer, and enjoyed it.
Then the superintendent's bell rang. That bell always did seem to have
an evil influence on those boys. Indeed, Mrs. Roberts was known to
remark, a few Sundays afterwards, that if there _were_ no opening and
closing exercises in the Sabbath-school, her work would be easier; that
street boys did not seem to have one element of devotion in them, and
needed to be kept at high pressure, in order to be able to control
themselves.
The thought is worthy of study, perhaps. It is just possible that our
opening and closing exercises are too long drawn out even for those who
are not street boys.
Be that as it may, the little spell which Mrs. Roberts had been able for
a few minutes to weave around her boys on this particular Sabbath, was
broken by the sound of the bell. The boys returned to their memories of
insult, as they regarded the police force. They muttered sullenly among
themselves about “traps” and “sells,” and “guessed they wouldn't get
caught here again;” and Mrs. Roberts, seeming not to hear, heard with a
heavy heart.
How angry they looked! Even Nimble Dick's usually merry face was clouded
over. What a curious thing it was that even they had their ideas
of propriety, and felt themselves insulted! Was it an instinct, she
wondered--a reminder that there was in them material for manhood?
Would they ever, any of them, be men--Christian gentlemen? It seemed
almost too great a stretch for even her imagination. As she moved in
her seat her delicately-embroidered, perfumed handkerchief fell to
the floor. Mrs. Roberts was used to young men--mere boys, even--whose
instinctive movement would be to instantly restore it to her. Not a boy
before her thought of such a thing. She had not expected it, of course.
Yet she wondered if the instinct were not dormant, needing but the
suggestion. It was a queer little notion, worthy of Flossy Shipley
herself, who, from being continually busy about little things, had come
to the conclusion that nothing anywhere was little; that the so-called
trifles, which make up many lives, had much to do with the happiness of
other lives. Was it worth her while to try to teach these street Arabs
to pick up fallen handkerchiefs? She differed from many Christian
workers, in that, in her simplicity, she really thought it was.
There was a lull just at that moment. A hymn had been announced, but the
organist's note-book had been mislaid, and was being sought after. It
could disturb no one if Mrs. Roberts tried her little experiment. She
looked longingly at Dirk Colson, but his brows were black and his eyes
fierce; this was no time to reach him. Nimble Dick looked much more
approachable. She determined to venture him:--
“Mr. Bolton,” spoken in her sweetest voice, “I have dropped my
handkerchief.”
“Anybody with half an eye could see that, mum; and a mighty dirty spot
you picked out for such a nice little rag to lie in.”
This was her only response. Then the discomfited experimenter told
herself that she was a blunderer. How could the poor fellow be expected
to know what she meant? Why had she not _asked_ the service from him?
She would try again.
Would he be kind enough to pick it up for her? It was long afterwards
before Mrs. Roberts could think of his answer without a sinking heart.
Fixing bold, saucy eyes on her, he spoke in deliberate tones, loud
enough to be heard half-way across the room:--
“Why, pick it up yourself, mum! It is as near to you as it is to me, and
you don't look weakly.”
She picked it up, her poor cheeks burning, but she did not forget it.
Various after-school conferences told their different stories.
“Well!” Mr. Durant said, stopping in the act of mopping his hot forehead
to shake hands with her, “Mrs. Roberts, I honor your courage. Those boys
were simply fearful to-day; I really feared some outbreak that would be
hard to quell. I'm afraid we shall have to give them up. Yes, I know how
you feel: but you haven't been here to see what we have borne from
them. All sorts of teachers have been tried. We have given them the best
material we had, both men and women, and every one has failed. Then you
actually want to try it for another Sabbath! Well, I'm glad of it. Oh,
_I_ don't want to give them up; it makes my heart ache to think of it;
but if we can't keep them in sufficient order to get any benefit, nor
find a teacher who is willing to hold on to them, what else is there for
us to do? But that last complaint I needn't make so long as you 'hold
on,' need I?” This last with a genial smile. “Well, God bless you; I
couldn't begin to tell you how much I hope you will succeed.”
But his face said: “However, I know you won't.”
He turned from her and said as much to young Ried:--
“She is in earnest, Ried, and she has resources; but she won't catch
them, simply because they don't mean to be caught; they come here
to make trouble and for nothing else. Just look at the way they have
performed to-day--worse than ever, and they never had a better teacher.
I've watched her, and I believe she knows how. I'll tell you what it is,
Ried, we must hold on to her, and when she gives up those boys we must
secure her for that class of girls down by the door. I really think we
have a prize.”
Now, if he had but known it, Mrs. Evan Roberts meant to teach no other
class at the South End Mission save those boys.
“Flossy Shipley!” This was Gracie Dennis' exclamation; when she was very
much excited, she went back to the old name. “What _are_ you trying to
do with those horrid boys? and how can you endure their impudence? I
never saw anything like their actions in my life, and I thought I had
seen bad boys. You look completely worn out, and no wonder. I shouldn't
think Mr. Roberts would let you do this. What good can you do such
creatures, Flossy?”
“My dear Gracie, don't you think that Jesus Christ died to save them?”
“Well!” said Gracie, hesitatingly. It was a favorite phrase with her, as
it is with many people when they don't know what to say next.
“And don't you think he wants them saved? And will he not be pleased
with even my little bits of efforts if he knows that my sincere desire
is to save these souls for his glory?”
“But what I mean is, what good can you do them so long as they act as
they do now? They didn't listen to a word you said, so as to get any
good out of it.”
“I don't know that, dear, nor do you. Don't you think the Holy Spirit
sometimes presses words on people that they do not seem to be heeding?
In any event, that is a part with which I have nothing to do. I tried;
and if I failed utterly I have but to try again. It isn't as though
there were some good teacher ready to take them. Nobody will make a
second effort. Now there is one thing I can certainly do. I can keep on
making efforts; who knows but some of them may bear fruit? By the way,
Gracie, I want ever so much of your help.”
“Mine?”' said Gracie, with wide-open eyes. “I don't know how to
help people; I'm not good.” And her face darkened in a frown,--some
unpleasant memories that went far toward proving the truth of that
statement coming to mind just then. After a moment she spoke in a
somewhat more gentle tone: “Don't count on me, Flossy, for help about
those boys. They frighten me; I never saw such fellows. I couldn't help
wondering what--papa would have said to them.”
Between the “wondering” and the noun there had been an observable pause.
Mrs. Roberts suspected that the thought in Gracie's mind was rather what
Mrs. Dennis, who was supposed to have much knowledge of boys, would have
thought of them. But since her arrival Gracie had studiously avoided any
reference to her stepmother, and Mrs. Roberts had humored her folly.
“Never mind, you can help them; and when you begin to realize that, you
will forget your fears.”
“Do you expect to see one of the creatures to-morrow evening? What in
the world would you do with them if they did come?”
“I'm not sure that I _expect_ them. I only hope for them. As to what
to do with them, I trust to you to help answer that question. I want to
give them an idea of what a nice time is.”
“I cannot help,” said Gracie again, but she was _interested_, and
referred again and again to the subject, cross-questioning Mrs. Roberts
as to her plans and hopes, until that lady gave a satisfied smile to the
thought that her seven boys had begun their work.
The first part of this conversation was held while they waited in one of
the class-rooms for Mr. Ried to give in his report before joining them.
The waiting suggested to Gracie another question.
“Who is this Mr. Ried, who seems to have us in charge?”
“He is one of the clerks from the store, which accounts, in part, for
his attendance on us. But I am interested in him for other reasons. He
had a wonderful sister; that is, she was a wonderful Christian; she died
when quite young, but one might be ready to go to heaven early if
one had accomplished as much as she did. By one of those strange
arrangements, which I should think would go far toward making observing
people believe in a special Providence, her life, or I might almost say
her death, was the means of changing the current of my husband's life.
He says he was a gay young fellow; a member of the church, but giving
just as little attention to religion as many do whom you and I know.
An accident to one of his family held him for several weeks in the town
where this Ester Ried lived; and her physician, with whom he became
acquainted, introduced him to her. It seems she was very much interested
in young men, in their Christian development. He went to see her several
times; and, to use his own expression, she first made him realize that
there was such a thing as zeal, and then she set it on fire. What she
had begun in life she finished in her death. Evan attended her funeral
services, and the walls were hung with Bible texts of her selection.
The most wonderful texts! All about Christian work, and about being in
earnest, because the time was short. Evan says he began to understand,
then, that the service of Christ was first, best, and always.
“Wasn't it a singular Providence that led him under the influence of
that young girl during the closing weeks of her life? Only think, he has
been doing her work ever since,--doing it, possibly, in ways that she
could not compass. That is one reason why I am so much interested in
those boys. It seems to me as though they were her boys. Did I tell you
that her heart went out especially after the neglected? I learned about
the boys through Mr. Ried. He was but a child when his sister died, and
yet she succeeded in so enthusing him with her ideas that he is all the
time trying to carry out her plans. She had some wonderful ones. This
idea of inviting the boys, socially, I had from her. Do you see how
plainly she is working yet, though she has been in heaven so long?”
“Do you think,” asked Gracie Dennis, a timid, gentle sound to her voice,
“that all Christians ought to put religion 'first, best, and always,'
as your husband said? I fancied that some were set apart to do a special
work.”
“We are all set apart, dear, don't you think? Given to Him to use as He
will. The trouble is that so many of us take back the gifts, and use our
time and our tongues as though they were our own.”
“Our _tongues_!” repeated Gracie, amazement in her voice.
“Why, yes; didn't you give Him your tongue when you gave Him yourself?
And yet you are fortunate if you have not dishonored Him with it many a
time.”
Said Gracie, “What a queer way you have of putting things.”
Then came Alfred Ried in haste, and apologizing for the long delay.
Gracie Dennis, watched him curiously; listened critically to his words.
Was it to be supposed that this young man put religion “first, best, and
always”; and considered his tongue as given to the Lord? Alfred bore the
scrutiny well. He took very little notice of Miss Gracie, being entirely
absorbed with another matter. He had settled opinions about Mrs. Roberts
now, from which he would not be likely to waver. He had seen much of her
during the week, and he knew she had not been idle. She had given
him much valuable information concerning the boys in whom he had been
interested all winter; and whom she had known for a week. Also he was
aware that Sally and Mark Calkins had seen much of her, to their great
benefit. She had made him her messenger on one occasion, and he had seen
Sally Calkins take from the basket the clean, sweet-smelling sheets that
were to freshen her brother's bed, and bestow on them rapturous kisses,
while she murmured, “I'd walk on my knees in broad daylight through the
gutter to serve her,--that I would.”
“Sheets aren't much, I suppose,” moralized the young man, as he walked
thoughtfully homeward. “People with much less money than she has
must have furnished them. It is thinking about things that makes the
difference between her and others.”
But he had not quite found the secret. The main difference between her
and many other people lay in the fact that she set steadily about doing
the things she thought of that would be nice to do.
On the whole, young Ried was fully prepared to sympathize with Mr.
Durant's opinion, that the South End Mission had secured a prize. Not
that he was very hopeful over those boys. He felt that their conduct,
under the circumstances, showed a depth of depravity which was beyond
the reach of Mission schools; but it was a comfort to think that good
things were arranged for them if they had but chosen to receive. He
began at once to talk about them.
“Mrs. Roberts, they are worse than I had supposed. I am afraid that your
patience is exhausted.”
Her answer was peculiar.
“Mr. Ried, I want you to spend to-morrow evening with me. I have invited
my boys, and I depend on you and Gracie here to help entertain them.”
“Are you equal to such formidable work as that?” asked Gracie, with a
mischievous smile.
He did not respond to the smile; he was looking at Mrs. Roberts,
studying her face as one bewildered with the rapidity of her moves.
“I want to be,” he said, with feeling; “I want to know how to work,
and I'm learning. Mrs. Roberts, I moved to my new boarding-house last
evening, and my room is a perfect little gem. There is an illuminated
text in it, and all around it is twined an ivy, growing,--don't you
think! Hidden, you know, behind the frame in a bottle; and the text is
one of my sister's treasures. Isn't that a singular coincidence?”
“It is very nice,” said Mrs. Roberts, with satisfied eyes. She still
made much use of that little word.
“And, Mrs. Roberts, I asked one of your boys to come in this evening and
see my room.”