OLD FRIENDS
Nothing was allowed to disturb Dr. Crane during his breakfast-time;
his wife took her meal in silence, while he studied his letters and
newspaper. This morning was no exception to the general rule, but
suddenly he laid down his correspondence, and said abruptly:
"By the way, Mary, have you heard anything from Margaret Woodford
lately?"
"A few days ago," she answered. "Why do you ask?"
"To tell you the truth, I've never felt quite satisfied about her
going to that post she accepted. I really owed it to her father to
find out what kind of people her employers were."
"Well, dear, she didn't give you much chance of doing that. You
remember she answered the advertisement, and got the situation
through an agency, and we knew nothing about it until everything was
settled."
"Yes, but I still feel I ought to have made a point of inquiring
personally. Does she seem happy?"
"I don't know about happy--I should imagine not very; one can hardly
expect that, perhaps--but she mentions the people are kind, and the
country lovely. It is evident she is leading a quiet life; her
employers for some reason seem to wish to live in retirement."
"Now, I wonder why? I don't quite like that fact," said the Doctor,
a little testily.
"Why, John, surely you are unreasonably suspicious; the child is
evidently in a comfortable home, and I think must be interested in
her work, or she would not have stayed so long. I made her promise
to come away to us at once if she found anything wrong--in fact I
asked her here for the holidays in August."
"Oh, I'm glad you did that!" he interposed in more satisfied tones.
"And what does she say?"
"I think she fears it would be painful to see the old home again so
soon; she says she has been asked to stay where she is, and she would
rather remain, and in fact she does not need rest yet."
"I hope it is all right then," answered Dr. Crane. "Ask her in your
next to tell you everything unreservedly about the people, and if she
is quite content? Seems strange Woodford's daughter should be out in
the world like this, doesn't it?" he finished musingly.
"Yes--and how different it might have been if Jack--had--lived," said
Mrs. Crane sadly.
"Our hopes were certainly shattered in more ways than one," he
assented, with a sigh; "but, old lady, we wouldn't have it otherwise,
would we? God called him for the service of his country, and when a
man answers that call in His Name, all must be well. You miss the
boy, I know--and well--so do I, more than I can say; but we are
getting on, and it will be a grand homecoming when he stands, as we
know he will stand, with outstretched hands to welcome us on the
other side. I expect we shall be glad then he went over there first;
what do you say, old dear?" he finished gently, and coming round to
where Mrs. Crane sat, the tears slowly coursing down her cheeks, he
stooped and kissed her forehead.
"Thank you, John," she answered. "I forget sometimes the joy that is
coming, the waiting seems so long, and yet it's a lovely thought, the
King may come into the air any day bringing our darling with Him.
There is nothing necessary to be fulfilled before that event, is
there?"
"No, I think not; scripture gives us nothing, but we must wait
patiently, and be content with God's time and choice."
"I love those lines, John:
"'At midnight, eve, or morning,
We may hear the victory song.
Filling the heavens above us,
From Redemption's white-robed throng.'"
"I wish there were more stricken hearts comforted with the
Thessalonian promises," he answered thoughtfully. "I am amazed at
the numbers of people I come across in my profession who are
apparently content to live their life as if it were the fulfilment of
all hopes and ambitions, and not merely a pilgrimage here, an
incident in eternity; but there, I must be off to the surgery," he
concluded, suddenly changing the subject as the clock struck nine.
As he was closing the door, he called out hurriedly:
"My old friend Hatherley is coming down here in August to spend his
holiday with us."
"Oh, I _am_ glad!" murmured Mrs. Crane to herself; "John will enjoy
that."
Then gathering up her correspondence, she went to interview cook. A
thought was in her mind to write Margaret a long motherly letter of
sympathy, giving her all the home news of interest she could think
of, and especially the Doctor's message.