Leslie and Allison did not go to the Christian Endeavor meeting that
second Sunday. They were tired out, and wanted to stay at home all the
evening, and Julia Cloud felt that it would be unwise to urge them; so
they sat around the fire and talked. Leslie sat down at the new piano,
and played softly old hymns that Julia Cloud hummed; and they all went
to bed early, having had a happy Sabbath in their new home.
But Monday evening quite early, just after they had come back from
supper and were talking about reading a story aloud, there came a
knock at the door. Their first caller! And behold, there stood the
inefficient-looking young man who had led the Christian Endeavor
meeting, the boy with the goggles who had prayed, and the two girls
who had sat by the piano.
"We're a committee," announced the young man, quite embarrassed. "My
name's Herricote, Joe Herricote. I'm president of our Christian
Endeavor Society, and this is Roy Bryan; he's the secretary. This is
Mame Beecher. I guess you remember her singing. She's chairman of our
social committee, and Lila Cary's our pianist and chairman of the
music committee. We've come to see if you won't help us."
"Come in," said Allison cordially, but with a growing disappointment.
Now, here were these dull people coming to interrupt their pleasant
evening, and there wouldn't be many of them, for college would soon
begin, and they would be too busy then to read stories and just enjoy
themselves.
Leslie, too, frowned, but came forward politely to be introduced. She
knew at a glance that these were not people of the kind she cared to
have for friends.
"We're a committee," repeated young Herricote, sitting down on the
edge of a chair, and looking around most uncomfortably at the
luxurious apartment. He had not realized it would be like this. He was
beginning to feel like a fish out of water. As for the rest of the
committee, they were overawed and dumb, all except the little fellow
with the tortoise-rimmed glasses. He was not looking at anything but
Allison, and was intent on his mission. When he saw that his superior
had been struck dumb, he took up the story.
"They appointed us to come and interview you, and see if you wouldn't
give us some new ideas how to run our society so it would be a
success," he put in. "They all liked your speech so much the other
night they felt you could help us out of the rut we've got into."
"Me?" asked Allison, laughing incredulously. "Why, I told you I didn't
know the first thing about Christian Endeavor."
"But we've gotta have your help," said the young secretary earnestly.
"This thing's gotta go! It's needed in our church, and it's the only
thing in the town to help some of the young people. It's just _gotta_
go!"
"Well, if you feel that way, you'll make it go, I'm sure," encouraged
Allison. "You're just the kind of a fellow to make it go. You know all
about it. Not I. I never heard of the thing till last week, except
just in a casual way. Don't know much about it yet."
"Well, s'pose it was one of your frats, and it wasn't succeeding.
What would you do? You saw what kind of a dead-and-alive meeting we
had, only a few there, and nobody taking much interest. How would you
pull up a frat that was that way?"
"Well," said Allison, speaking at random, "I'd look around, and find
some of the right kind of fellows, and rush 'em. Get in some new
blood."
"That's all right," said Bryan doggedly. "I'm rushin' you. How do you
do it? I never went to college yet; so I don't know."
Allison laughed now. He rather liked this queer boy.
"He's a nut!" he said to himself, and entered into the talk in
earnest.
"Why, you have parties, and rides, and good times generally, and
invite a fellow, and make him feel at home, and make him want to
belong. See?"
"I see," said Bryan, with a twinkling glance at the rest of his
committee. "We have a party down at my house Friday night. Will you
come?"
Allison saw that the joke was on him, and his reserve broke down
entirely.
"Well, I guess it's up to me to come," he said. "Yes, I'm game. I'll
come."
Bryan turned his big goggles on Leslie.
"Will you come?"
"Why, yes, if Allison does, I will," agreed Leslie, dimpling.
"That's all right," said Bryan, turning back to Allison. "Now, what do
you do when you rush? You'll have to teach us how."
"Well," said Allison thoughtfully, "we generally pick out our best
rushers, the ones that can talk best, and put them wise. We never let
the fellow that's rushed know what we're doing. Oh, if he has brains,
he always knows, of course; but you don't say you're rushing him in so
many words. At college we meet a fellow at the train, and show him
around the place, and put him onto all the little things that will
make it easy for him; and we invite him to eat with us, and help him
out in every way we can. We appoint some one to look after him
specially, and a certain group have him in their charge so the other
frats won't have a chance to rush him----"
"I see. The other frats being represented by the devil, I suppose,"
said the round-eyed boy keenly without a smile.
Allison stared at him, and then broke into a laugh again.
"Exactly," he cried; "you've got onto the idea. It's your society over
against the other things that can draw them away from what you stand
for. See? And then there's another thing. You want to have something
ready to show them when you get them there. That's where our alumni
come in. They often run down to college for a few days and help us out
with money and influence and experience. If you've got good working
alumni, you're right in it, you see. We generally appoint a committee
to talk things over with the alumni."
"You mean," said Bryan, drawing his brows together in a comical way
behind his goggles, "you mean--pray, I suppose."
"Why," said Allison, flushing, "I suppose that would be a good idea. I
hadn't thought of it just in that way."
"You called Christ our alumnus the other night," reminded the literal
youth solemnly.
"So I did," acknowledged Allison embarrassedly. "Well, I guess you're
right. But I don't know much about that kind of line."
"I'm afraid there don't many of us," put in the bashful president. "I
wouldn't hardly know who to appoint on such a committee. There's only
two or three like to pray in our meetings. There's Bryan; we always
ask him because he doesn't mind, and I--well, I do sometimes when
there's no one else, but it comes hard; and there's old Miss Ferby,
but she always prays so long, and gets in the president and all the
missionary stations----"
"I should think you'd ask that Jane Bristol," spoke up Leslie
earnestly. "I know she must be able to. She talked that way."
"I suppose she would," responded the president hesitatingly, looking
toward the two ladies of the committee with a half apology. "What do
you girls think about it?"
"Oh, I suppose she could _pray_," said the girl called Mame, with a
shrug. "She does, you know, often in meeting."
Then with a giggle toward Leslie she added as if in explanation, "She
works _out_, you know."
"It must be very hard for her," said Leslie, purposely ignoring the
inference.
"Well, you know she isn't in our set. Nobody has much to do with
her."
"Why not? I think she is very unusual," said Leslie with just the
least bit of hauteur.
"Well, it wouldn't be wise to get her into things. It might keep some
others out if we made her prominent," put in Lila Cary with some
asperity. "We must have some social distinction, you know."
"In our frat one fellow is as good as another if he has the right kind
of character," remarked Allison dryly. "That girl sounded to me as if
she had some drag with your alumni. But of course you know her better
than I."
"She is a good girl all right and real religious," hastened Lila to
amend. "I suppose she'd be real good on a prayer committee, and would
help to fill up there, as you haven't many."
"Well, I'll tell you one thing," said Allison, "if you really want to
succeed, you've got to pull together, every member of you, or you
won't get anywhere. And I should think that you'd have to be careful
now at first whom you get in. Of course after you're pretty strong you
can take in a few just to help them; but, if you get in too many of
that lame kind, your society'll go bad. The weak kind will rule, and
the mischief will be to pay. I shouldn't think it would help you any
just now to get in any folks that would feel that way about a good
girl just because she earns her living."
Mame Beecher and Lila Cary looked at each other in alarm, and hastened
to affirm that they never felt that way about Jane Bristol. _They_
thought she was a real good sort, and had always meant to get
acquainted with her; only she always slipped out as soon as meeting
was over.
Back in the dining-room behind the rose-lined blue-velvet hangings
Julia Cloud lingered and smiled over the way her two children were
developing opinions and character. How splendid of them to take this
stand! And who was Jane Bristol? Assuredly she must be looked up and
helped if that was the way the town felt about her, poor child!
"Well," said Bryan in a business-like tone, "I'm secretary. Joe, you
call that prayer committee together Thursday night at your house at
half-past seven, and I'll send a notice to each one. You make Jane
Bristol chairman, and I'll be on the committee; and I'll go after her
and take her home. Now, who else are you going to have on it?"
The president assented readily. He was one not used to taking the
initiative, but he eagerly did as he was told when a good idea
presented itself.
"We want you on it," he said, nodding to Allison and then, looking
shyly at Leslie, added, "And you?"
"Oh!" said Leslie, flushing in fright, "what would we have to do? I
never prayed before anybody in my life. I'm not sure I even know how
to pray, only just to say 'Thank you' to God sometimes. I think you
could find somebody better."
"We've got to have you this time," said the president, shaking his
head. "You needn't pray if you don't want to, but you must come and
help us through."
"But I couldn't go and be a--a sort of slacker!" said Leslie, her
cheeks quite beautifully red.
"That's all right! You come!" said Bryan, looking solemnly at her.
When the visitors finally took themselves away, Allison, polite to the
last, closed the door with a courteous "Good-night," and then stood
frowning at the fire.
Julia Cloud came softly into the room, and went and stood beside him
with loving question in her eyes. He met her gaze with a new kind of
hardness.
"Now, you see what you let me in for, Cloudy, when you made me go to
that little old dull Christian Endeavor! But I won't do it! That's all
there is to it. You needn't think I'm going to. The idea! Why, what
did we come here to college for? To run an asylum for sick Sunday
schools, I'd like to know? As if I had time to monkey with their
little old society! It's rank nonsense, anyhow! What good do they
think they can do, a couple of sissies, and two or three kid vamps,
setting up to lisp religion? It's ridiculous!"
He was working himself up into a fine frenzy. Julia Cloud stood and
watched him, an amused smile growing on her sweet lips. He caught the
amusement, and fired up at it.
"What are you looking like that at me for, Cloudy? You know it is. You
know it's all foolishness. And you know I couldn't help them, anyhow.
Come, now, don't you? _What_ are you looking like that for, Cloudy? I
believe you're laughing at me! You think I'll go and get into this
thing, but I'll show you. I _won't_! And that's an end of it. Cloudy,
I insist on knowing what you find to laugh at in this situation."
"Why, I was just thinking how much you reminded me of Moses," said
Julia Cloud sweetly.
"Of _Moses_!" screamed Allison half angrily. "Why, he was a meek man,
and I'm not meek. I'm mad! Out and out _mad_, Cloudy. What do you
mean?"
"Oh, no, he wasn't always meek," said his aunt thoughtfully; "and he
talked just as you are doing when God called on him first to lead the
children of Israel out of Egypt. He said he couldn't and he wouldn't
and he shouldn't, and made every excuse in the calendar; and finally
God had to send along Aaron to help him, although God had said _He_
would be with him and make him perfectly able alone to do what He
wanted done."
"I suppose I'm Aaron," sighed Leslie, settling into a big chair by the
fire. "But I don't like those girls one bit! And I don't care if they
stay in seven Egypts."
"Now, look here, Cloudy Jewel," pleaded Allison. "You're not going to
get me into any such corner as that. The idea that God would call me
to do any of His work when I never had anything at all to do with the
church in my life, and I don't want to. How should I know what to do?
Why should He ever call me, I'd like to know, when I don't know the
first thing about churches? You're all off, Cloudy. Think again. Why,
I'm not even what you'd call a Christian. He surely wouldn't call
people that haven't--well, what you'd call enlisted with Him, would
He?"
"He might," answered Julia Cloud reflectively. She was sitting on the
end of the big blue couch, and the firelight played over her white
hair with silvery lights, and cast a lovely rose tint over her sweet
face. "There were several instances where He called people who had
never known Him at all, who, in fact, were worshipping idols and
strange gods, and told them to go and do something for Him. There was
Paul; he was actually against Him. And there was Abraham; he lived
among regular idol-worshippers, and God called him to go into a
strange land and founded a new family for him, the beginning of the
peculiar people through whose line was to come Jesus, the Saviour of
the world. And Abraham went."
"Oh, nonsense, Cloudy! That was in those times. Of course. There
wasn't anybody else, I suppose; and He had to take some one. But now
there are plenty of people who go to church all the time and like that
sort of thing."
"How do you know, Allison? Perhaps you are the only one in this town,
and God has sent you here just to do this special work."
"Well, I won't, and that's flat, Cloudy; so you can put the idea right
out of your head. I won't, not even for you. Anything that has to do
with your personal comfort I wouldn't say that about, of course; but
this belongs entirely to that little old ratty church, and I haven't
anything at all to do with it; and I want you to forget it, Cloudy,
for _I'm not going to do it_!"
"Why, Allison, you're mistaken about me. It isn't my affair, and I
don't intend to make it so. I didn't get this up. It's between you and
God. If God really called you, you'll have to say no to Him, not to
me. I don't intend to make excuses to God for you, child. You needn't
think it. And, besides, there's another thing you're very much
mistaken about, and that is that you haven't anything to do with the
church. When you were a little baby six months old, your father and
mother brought you home to our house; and the first Sunday they were
there they took you to the old church where all the children and
grandchildren had been christened for years, and they stood up and
assented to the vows that gave you to God. And they promised for
themselves that they would do their best to bring you up in the
nurture and admonition of the Lord until you came to years and could
finish the bond by giving yourself to the Lord. I shall never forget
the sweet, serious look on the face of your lovely girl-mother when
she bowed her head in answer to the minister's question, 'Do you thus
promise?'"
Allison had stopped in his angry walk up and down the room, and was
looking at her interestedly.
"Is that right, Cloudy? Was I baptized in the old Sterling church? I
never knew that. Tell me about it," and he seated himself on the other
end of the couch, while Leslie switched off the light and nestled down
between them, scenting a story.
"Wasn't I, too, Cloudy?" she asked hungrily.
"No, dear, I think you were baptized in California in your mother's
church, and I'm sorry to say I wasn't there to see; so I can't tell
you about it; but I remember very distinctly all about Allison's
christening, for we were all so happy to have it happen in the East,
and he was the first grandchild, and we hadn't seen your father for
over two years, nor ever seen his young wife before; so it was a great
event. It was a beautiful bright October day, and I had the pleasure
of making the dress you wore, Allison, every stitch by hand,
hemstitching and embroidery and all. And right in the midst of the
ceremony you looked over your father's shoulder, and saw me sitting in
the front seat, and smiled the sweetest smile! Then you jumped up and
down in your father's arms, and spatted your little pink hands
together, and called out 'Ah-_Jah_!' That's what you used to call me
then, and everybody all over the church smiled. How could they help
it?"
"Gee! I must 'a' been some kid!" said Allison, slipping down into a
comfortable position among the pillows. "Say, Cloudy, I knew a good
thing when I saw it even then, didn't I?"
"You know, Allison, that ceremony wasn't just all on your father's and
mother's part; it entailed some responsibility upon you. It was part
of your heritage, and you've no right to waste it any more than if it
were gold or bank stock or houses and lands. It was your title to a
heavenly sonship, and it gave God the right to call upon you to do
whatever He wants you to do. It's between you and God now, and you'll
have to settle it yourself. It's not anything I could settle for you
either way, much as I might want it, because it is you who must answer
God, and you must answer Him from the heart either way; so nobody else
has anything to do with it."
"Oh, good-_night_! Cloudy, you certainly can put things in an awkward
way. Oh, hang it! Now this whole evening's spoiled. I wish I hadn't
gone to the front door at all. I wish I'd turned out the lights and
let 'em knock. And there was that story you were going to read, and
now it's too late!"
"Why, no; it's not too late at all," said Julia Cloud, consulting her
little watch in the firelight. "It's only quarter to nine, and I'm
sure we can indulge ourselves a little to-night, and finish the story
before we go to bed. Turn the light on, and get the magazine."
With an air of finality Julia Cloud put aside the debated question,
and settled herself in the big willow chair by the lamp with her book.
Leslie went back to her chair by the fire, and Allison flung himself
down on the couch with a pillow half over his eyes; but anybody
watching closely would have seen that his eyes were wide open and he
was studying the calm, quiet profile of his aunt's sweet face as she
read in a gentle, even tone, paragraph after paragraph without a
flicker of disturbance on her brow. Allison was not more than half
listening to the story. He was thinking hard. Those things Julia Cloud
had said about obligations and Moses and Abraham and Paul stuck hard
in his mind, and he couldn't get away from them.