CHAPTER XIV

MRS. VERNON ATTENDS A MOVING-PICTURE SHOW AND FINDS IN IT A GREAT LESSON UNTHOUGHT OF BY THE AUTHOR

The lobby of the San Luis Obispo moving-picture house was thronged, and there was a crush at the ticket office. As Regan and his party pushed their way to the entrance, the ticket seller was announcing that the house was sold out.

To get through this unheard-of crowd Mr. Regan was forced to use his elbows freely. Mrs. Vernon and his family, according to his directions, followed him in close single file. None of them had an opportunity to notice the posters and the pictures of various scenes in the much heralded play. Had the lobby been less thronged, it is doubtful whether they would have attended the performance.

“To accommodate all,” cried a strong voice as they reached the ticket taker, “there will be another performance at four o’clock sharp; and until a quarter to four positively no more seats will be sold.”

At two-thirty to the second, but a few minutes after the Regan party had seated themselves, the lights went out and the “News of the Week” was flashed upon the curtain. The assembled crowd, filling every seat, had not come for the “News of the Week”; hence they were in no wise disappointed when it was taken off, with most of the news left out. The manager with a view to the second performance was shortening his program.

There was a moment’s pause, and then there flashed upon the screen the words, “You Hardly Can Tell”; whereupon everybody sat up and adjusted himself for the promised treat.

Perhaps the only exception was Mrs. Vernon. Seated between Agnes and Louis, she was affectionately watching now one, now the other, and rejoicing in their eager joy.

The story at the first moved slowly, a close-up being given of a few of the leading characters, including first and foremost the fair Vivian.

“Isn’t she sweet!” exclaimed Agnes breathlessly.

“She has a nice face,” returned Barbara, raising her eyes momentarily to the screen and then turning them once more upon Agnes.

Suddenly the girl’s face changed from admiration to merriment.

“Oh, look! Ain’t he funny!”

Mrs. Vernon did look and gasped.

There grinning upon them all with a fatuous face, made still more fatuous by the arrangement of his hair, was her old friend—and more than friend—John Compton! There came back vividly to her the memory of their last meeting, something over ten years ago, when she had parted in sorrow and he in anger, and, as he said bitterly, forever. She was glad to see his face once more—glad and disappointed. She had expected more of him. His name by this time should have been known far and wide, not as a wearer of the motley, but as a writer, a thinker, a leader of men; and why had he disappointed her expectations? At the moment a feeling of remorse came upon her. She meditated.

“I was just. But was I kind? It is true I could never bring myself to marry a man who refused to believe in God. But was I not brutal in the way I refused him? Possibly, if I had been gentle and patient, he might have been brought to the truth. Forgive, O my God, the offenses of a proud and unthinking youth.” Thus meditating she was suddenly brought back to the present by a roaring and laughing and stir that were little short of tumult. Agnes jumped to her feet, and remembering herself, sat down again exclaiming, “Oh! oh! oh!” Louis had risen uttering yelps of delight, and remained standing until a justly aggrieved man behind him dragged him back to his seat.

Mrs. Vernon raised her eyes and saw Bobby Vernon!

“O God! O my God!” she exclaimed, jumping up herself and for a moment on the point of rushing up the aisle to catch her Bobby in her arms. Her long discipline of self-restraint, however, asserted itself. She reseated herself, and catching a hand of Agnes in her own, squeezed it until the child winced.

Yes, it was her own Bobby. The twisted mouth, the bellhop uniform, the serio-comic face—these were all, in a way, no matter of surprise to her; for Bobby, as no one knew better than herself, was a born mimic. But he was alive! Bobby was alive! “O God!” she whispered, “there is a faith that can move mountains. Blessed be Thy name!” She followed the picture now, but in a way almost unheard of. It was to her a long, sweet meditation. Over and over she murmured, “My son that was dead has come to life again!” “With God all things are possible.” “Oh, my son, my son!” Tears coursed down her cheeks, tears of joy incredible. But no one noticed her. All were absorbed in the play, and when the lights were turned on and the performance over, Agnes was astounded beyond measure at Barbara, who embraced her almost violently and said:

“It was the sweetest, most touching thing I ever saw. It has taught me never to fail in trusting in God.”

Now Agnes thought it was the most mirth-provoking thing she had ever seen, and, as to trusting in God, that lesson, like the flowers that bloom in the spring, had nothing to do with the case.

Before leaving the theater Mrs. Vernon, excusing herself, had a few words privately with the manager.