Chapter 6

"That was my little girl," he said. "She, too, wanted to be a teacher and she was in this very school when sickness and death came. When you came to me that first morning and said, 'I just must be a teacher,' I could hear her say to me, 'Help her.' So I did what you asked me to do--got you a place to work for nothing though I knew you were to be paid. I have watched you work, I have watched you suffer because of the red dress; I have watched you try to do your duty at the sacrifice of yourself. And now that you have done all that you can, I am ready to do the rest. Send the money that you have earned to your mother to help to buy the cow. Come to live here and be my office girl. The money that you earn can go to your mother for I will do for you what I would have done for her and I will do it for her sake and because you have shown me that you are worth while. You _shall_ be a teacher."

So Janie lived in the home of her new friend. There was help on her lessons, the old red dress went back to the little home in the hills to be worn by some one whom it would fit and in her new, pretty things she could see more plainly--Janie, the teacher.

SELF-MADE MEN

The banqueting hall of Hotel Northland was crowded to its limit. There were noted men and women from all walks of life. There were many from humble homes. There were those whose beautiful dresses showed that money meant little to them; there were others to whom the price of the banquet ticket had meant sacrifice. It was a merry company that awaited the coming of the guests of the evening.

Cheer after cheer arose when the tall, fine-looking young man took his seat near the center of the guest's table. He was the newly elected mayor of the city--the youngest mayor they had ever had. He had risen from the ranks and many of the humbler folk knew him well as a boy. Oh, how proud they were of him!

Then again the cheers sounded as an old white-haired lady entered and was placed at the left of the mayor. She it was who had given them their college, their library, their playground. For years and years she had been living away from the town, but still she loved them all and gave of her wealth to make them happy. Her friends were many in the great banqueting hall.

The supper was served and the tables cleared and then the mayor rose to speak. He told of his boyhood, of his struggles at school and college, of his eagerness to enter the political field, of his happiness at his recent election.

"I believe that every man is master of his own fate. I believe in being a self-made man and I mean during these next years when I am to serve you to make it possible for every boy to push his way to a career. One can make himself what he will if only he has grit and courage. I am here to serve you all," he said.

Not once during the address had the eyes of the little, white-haired lady been taken from the speaker. She seemed studying him rather than his address. So intent was she that she hardly heard the toastmaster introducing her as the friend whom all delighted to honor. Dreamily she arose and said,

"Years and years ago, in this very town there lived a teacher who had ten bright, happy girls in a club. For four years they had played and worked together and they loved each other dearly. Then the husband of the teacher was taken ill and it became necessary for the teacher to go to another continent to live.

"How hard it was for the girls to have her go! But it was harder still for her, for she had wanted to help them through to womanhood. She had tried to help them to see the best but often she had felt that her efforts were all too small. The day came nearer for her to leave and she had asked the girls to spend the last evening with her in her home.

"And they came, each bringing in their hands a little letter, sealed tightly. They were steamer letters for their teacher and they had been written because they had heard her say that she wished she could take with her some idea as to what the girls wanted to be when they had grown, so that she might be thinking of their plans, even though she could not be there to help with them. One by one they laid them on the table till there were ten little letters--heart-to-heart letters to their dear friend.

"Five days later, away out in mid-ocean, the teacher opened the letters and read them over and over to herself. How much they told of the girls!

"Jennie wanted to be a great singer; she wanted to go to New York and study and then go into Grand Opera.

"Katherine wanted to be a Kindergarten teacher. Ah! she had found that because of helping in the church.

"Mary wanted to be a lawyer--a criminal lawyer. Perhaps that desire had grown in their debating club.

"Louise wanted to be a nurse. What a dear faithful girl she had been in helping with the bandages after the great fire in the city!

"So one by one she read their letters and her heart was filled with gratitude that to her it had been given to mold in a little way their lives."

Then turning to the mayor of the city, the little white-haired lady said,

"Sir, the contents of one of those letters will be of interest to you more than to the rest. I was the teacher of those girls, so I can give you the exact wording of the last letter that I read,

"'Dear friend: You have asked us to give you our dearest wish. I have many wishes for the future but the wish that I want most of all is to be a fine woman and some day to be a real mother, the kind you have so often told us about.'

"The girl who wrote that letter, sir, became your mother. Fourteen years before you were born, your character was being formed, your ideals were being molded, your future was being safeguarded. I congratulate you, sir, on being elected to the office of mayor; but I congratulate you more for being the child of my little girl of the long ago who at sixteen could write, 'I want most of all to be a fine, noble woman and some day to be a real mother.' To her you owe much. Inspire the girls of the town if you plan for great men. A self-made man needs a real mother to build the foundations of his character. There is no other way."

Then the speaker sat down and there was silence in the banqueting hall.

ON THE ROAD TO WOMANHOOD

In their hands the girls carried a scroll; on their backs they carried a bundle, and they were five in number--five girls with rosy cheeks and healthy bodies. But now their cheeks were browned by the sun and their shoulders drooped as they walked by the way.

For they had walked and walked and walked as the morning had turned into noon, and now the afternoon shadows were already falling on the way. Then as the search seemed almost useless, they saw her--the one for whom they had come; the one into whose hands they wished to place their scrolls. Eagerly they watched her as she came slowly toward them dressed in shining white--the Angel Who Rights Things.

When she smiled, they found courage to speak.

"We have come to search for you but we thought we should never find you," said the oldest of the girls. "We can never grow strong and beautiful if we carry these heavy burdens on our backs. They are much too large for us and we do not like them. We have come to ask you to take them away and make us free. Lo! we have written it all here in our scrolls."

But the Fairy Who Rights Things drew back as the five handed to her the scrolls which they carried.

"Take away the burdens!" said she. "Oh, no, I could never do that. He that carrieth no burden gaineth no strength. All must carry if they would grow."

"But we do not like them. If we must have a burden, might we not exchange them? Surely all our friends do not have burdens to carry. We have watched them and we know they have none," said another girl.

"You are quite mistaken," said the fairy. "All have burdens to carry. But I can let you choose if you will exchange your own. Let me see what you have brought."

"Well," said the first. "Here is mine. I have to go to school. Now father has plenty of money and I shall never have to work. Why should I study and do all the hard work of the school? I hate it all and I want to be free from it. I want to live at home and read, and play, and do as I like."

"And here is mine," said the second, lifting it from her back. "I have to go to church every Sunday when I want to sleep. There is nothing there for me and I am so tired of it. But father and mother insist that I go, at least in the morning. I want to be free from the church."

"Oh," said the third. "I don't mind school and I don't mind going to church but I do mind having to help at home. It is iron and sweep and wash dishes; then wash dishes and sweep and iron. Always something to do when I am in the house. I hate housework and I want to be free from doing it. Mother says all girls should help at home. But it is a big burden."

"My burden is quite different from the others," said the fourth. "I cannot dress as I choose. I must wear heavy clothes and low heels. I must dress my hair as if I were old and tidy. All the girls do differently and I want to be like them. Really my burden makes me very unhappy. Please let me change it."

Then the fairy turned to the last girl, who had been resting her burden against a stone wall.

"What have you here, dear?" she said kindly. "Your burden seems weighing you down. Let me help you open it."

"Oh dear," said the girl, and the big tears welled up in her eyes. "This is my home life. Nobody seems to understand me. They scold and fret and fuss all the time. Mother is cross and the children are always bothering me. I want to go away from home and work for my living and then board as the other girls do. I should love to have a little room in a boarding-house where the girls could come to see me. My burden grows heavier and heavier and I am also very unhappy."

"Well, well, well," said the Fairy Who Rights Things. "It looks as if I had a big task. All of you seem to be unhappy, but then we are usually unhappy because we look at ourselves instead of others. Let's try what these magic spectacles can do. They will show you the burdens some of your friends carry and also show you how they carry them."

Then she fitted a pair to the eyes of each girl and they looked at the passers-by.

There was Kate, who was always smiling and happy. Her burden was almost as large as she. There was a sick mother away back on the little farm in the country. Kate was trying to support her and still have enough to keep her own expenses paid. Her days were full of work. In her room, she was sewing to make extra money. She was very lonely, for she loved the little mother and longed to be with her, but she must earn money. Oh! what a pile of worries she had on every side! How could she ever carry them? But beneath the pile as it rested on her back they saw a little lever that was lifting all the time--and the lever was _Love_.

And here was May. They had money and automobiles and everything to make her happy. She had never seemed to have any burden but now she was carrying a very large one. She wanted to go to college, she wanted to make her life worth while, but her parents wanted her to stay at home and play the hours away. They would not let her go and as the months went by she longed more and more to study and serve. Did she have a lever to help carry hers? Indeed she did. It was right under the burden and it was called _Vision_.

Then there was Tom, the baseball star. He too carried a burden. They had never known that he had a father. But he carried the burden of a father who drank and drank. Oh, what a shame to take him through the streets in such a helpless condition! Did Tom have a lever? All looked eagerly to see and they saw _Ideals_--he would have a spotless character and retrieve the family name.

And there was Helen. Her people used profane language and she loved the pure. They loved the world and she loved the ideals of the church. They made fun of her faith and tried to change it. How heavily she was loaded, yet they had never dreamed of it when they had seen her teaching her little class in the Church School. But _Belief in God_ was helping her to carry her load.

So they passed along the way before the five girls. All were carrying something but not all were carrying their load alike. Some smiled, and some sang as they staggered beneath a heavy load; others groaned and fretted with the weight of a much lighter one. Some were not only carrying their own load but helping to carry others.

"And now," said the Angel Who Rights Things, "do you see a load that you would prefer? If so, then I will ask the bearer to exchange with you. Will you choose by the size of the burden or the ease with which it is carried?"

But though they searched long and diligently, they found no load easier than their own.

At last one turned to the Angel and said, "We find no one to choose. And since we must carry a burden, will you tell us how best we may carry these?"

Then the face of the Angel lighted with pleasure till it glowed like the sun. "When one asks _how_ to carry and not _why_ he must carry, already the load is lighter," she replied. "If you will, your school can give to you a vision that will make your load seem very easy; your church can give to you a love that will make you eager to go there and learn to serve; your home cares can give you ideals for your own little home some day; your mother can show you how to grow into beautiful womanhood if you will but give her a chance; your troubles at home can give to you a sympathy that will not only lift your own burden but help with those of others. All these levers that you have seen helping to lift loads have been right at your hand to help you if you would only have given them an opportunity.

"How shall you bear your burdens? With a smile on your face, and love in your heart, and any _lifter_ that you can find."

Then the Angel Who Rights Things went on her way to find others who groaned beneath their burdens because they had never learned how to carry them.

HER PRAYER

Every time the King automobile went past the little home of Julia Lowe when Julia was there, she ran eagerly to look into the face of the lady who sat inside. She had such beautiful clothes; she sat so tall and stately; she had such a wonderful smile. She was Julia Lowe's ideal woman.

Julia had gone with two other girls to ask Mrs. King to help them with their Liberty Loans and she had not only taken bonds but had given them flowers from the great garden back of the house, and had invited them to come again. Every time she saw her go by, Julia wished she, too, might have such a sweet face and such a heap of good things as Mrs. King had.

Now Julia worked in an office downtown, so, of course she thought she had to act and to do as the other girls in the office did. When they wore their hair very straight, hers was straight also; but when they wore puffs, she had to get up much earlier in the morning to force her pretty hair into great puffs over her ears. Mother wanted her to wear serge dresses in the office, but the other girls wore georgette waists, so of course she had to wear them also. Some of the girls in the neighborhood liked to go to the library to read, so they had formed a club for that purpose and had asked Julia to join. But the girls in the office liked to go to dances and picture shows, and so she must go to them also--else how could she talk things over with them at the noon hour, and tell them of the boys she had been with, and the places where she had gone? Oh, yes, she just must do as the girls in the office did. But in spite of it all, she wasn't very happy and sometimes she wished she could run away from it all and just go back to school again as her mother had wanted her to do.

When she looked at Mrs. King, somehow her beautiful face seemed to make her want more than ever to do better. What was there about her that made Julia love her at a distance and yet be afraid of her when she came near her? Julia didn't know. But she did know that deep in her heart she wanted to be like her and didn't know how. If only she had money and beautiful things, perhaps it would be different.

One day when the leaves were very beautiful in their fall colors, a dainty little note was left by the postman for Julia and it read,

"Dear Julia:

"I hardly know you but I am going to ask a great favor of you. Mr. King has been called out of town and he is not willing to have me stay in the house all alone, for it is very big and lonely since Mary died. I wish very much that you would let me call for you at the office this afternoon. Then we will go out in the country to see the beautiful colors and have our supper at the Country Club. Then, when we come home in the moonlight, I should like to have you spend the night with me here. I shall hope that you can come.

"Sincerely,

"Margaret L. King."

Julia was so happy as she read it that she could hardly contain herself--to go for a ride in the wonderful car; to eat at the Country Club; to sleep at the home of Mrs. King--why, she had never even dared to dream of such a thing. It was too good to be true.

Of course she must look her very best, so she asked for an extra half hour at noon. She would wear her new thin waist with the very low neck, for the girls had told her that she looked "too sweet for anything" in that. Her silk skirt was shabby but it would never do to wear her serge, even if it were new, when she rode with Mrs. King. As she put on the high-heeled slippers, she noticed that they were much run over, but they would have to do. It took her a long, long time to fix her hair just as she wanted to have it, for one dip must just touch the next at the right angle.

Finally all was ready but the extra touches to her face. There was the rouge for which she had spent so much money. The boss at the office had told them that they would lose their job if they came with it on their faces again but she must risk it this once. A little penciling of the eyebrows, a little powder here and there, and Julia felt very sure as she looked at herself in the glass that she would "do."

Her shoes needed brushing but she hadn't time for them, for, even now, she had only time to run as fast as she could to get the car which would bring her to the office in time. There was a button off her coat which she had forgotten, but the coat needn't be worn; her fingernails needed attention, but she never cared much about them. As long as her face, and her hair, and her clothes were all in style, she was all right to go anywhere.

Promptly at five, the King car came to the door of the factory and Julia stepped in, followed by the envious glances of her friends in the office. What a ride it was through the open country! Miles and miles of beauty such as Julia had never seen. Mrs. King found so many interesting things for her to see that all the restraint wore away, and she found herself talking to her friend and telling her all about her own life and pleasures.

Then Mrs. King told her a little about what she did with her time and, to her surprise, Julia found that Mrs. King was a very busy woman. Over and over as they talked, Julia noticed how soft and sweet Mrs. King's voice was and how carefully she used the best of English. And again, Julia found herself wishing she were like Mrs. King. Somehow she did not care to use the slang words that seemed so necessary when she talked with the girls.

When their coats were removed at the Country Club, Julia found that Mrs. King was very simply dressed in a dark blue serge dress with little white collar and cuffs. Many other girls and women in the group were dressed in the same way. Then Julia became suddenly conscious of the run-over heels and the torn skirt, for she and Mrs. King were in the center of the room, and she was being introduced as "My friend Julia." How she did wish she had taken mother's advice and worn the new, pretty serge!

In one of the corners of the dining-room there was a little table for two that overlooked the lake, and towards this Mrs. King made her way. Here they could see every one and yet be quite alone. Then Mrs. King told her a little of the people in the room. Here was the wife of a noted judge; that was the High School teacher of whom she must have heard the girls speak if they had ever been to that school.

"And who are these two girls in front of us?" asked Julia. "Isn't the dark-haired one a beauty? Evidently the young man with her thinks so, too."

Then Mrs. King's face grew quiet as she said,

"Those are two girls of whom we are very fond here, but I am so sorry to see Jessie doing as she is. No, Julia, she is not pretty. She has painted her face and all her natural beauty is hidden. Usually she is very attractive. Her friend's face is sweet and clean. Evidently she does not care to attract attention to herself by the use of paint and rouge. She believes in being true to her best self even though she is not in the height of style. When you have lived longer, you will know, dear, the truth of what I say."

Poor Julia. Her face burned like fire. Mrs. King had said "My friend Julia," yet she, too, had paint on her face--not red like the girl in front, to be sure, but it was there. Why had no one told her before? All the girls did it and she thought it was the thing to do. Then there came to her an impulse to ask Mrs. King about it, so she said frankly,

"Mrs. King, I have some paint on my face, too, but I put it on because I was coming out with you. I thought you would like to have me look my very best."

"Indeed I do, girlie," said Mrs. King, putting her hand on the hand of the girl opposite her. "Indeed I do want you to look your best. I have liked you ever since I came to Hillcrest to live and it has hurt me to see you trying to do as all the other girls did. I have wished so often that you would be a leader in doing the finer things and help others to see what real beauty is and how to get it. Real beauty is not put on from the outside; it grows from within."

Julia looked at Mrs. King's sweet, loving face very hard for a minute and then said,

"I have liked you, too, and I have watched you go back and forth, wishing I could be like you. Will you show me how? Mother has tried but I thought she did not know. No one else has ever tried to tell me about your kind of beauty."

So they made the compact. Then they sat and watched for well-dressed women; for women in whose faces there was strength of character and purpose; for girls whose very manner showed they were ladies; for men who honored the girls in whose company they were. Such fun as it was! Julia never knew the time to go so fast. It was so plain now that clothes did not necessarily make the lady. She was almost sorry when it came time to go home.

In the house, a great fire was burning and it looked so cozy.

"I have looked into your windows many times as I have passed and wished I could sit before the fire and dream and dream," said the girl. "May I sit down here for a while?"

"We will both sit here," said Mrs. King, "then I will tell you about my little girl who used to sit here with me."

How Julia's heart ached for her friend as she told her of her love for her own dear girl, of the plans they had made, of the sudden sickness and death, and of the loneliness of the big house since she had gone! She had thought Mrs. King had everything to make her happy, yet the thing she wanted most she could not have.

"Her hair was much like yours and sometimes, as you have passed, I have wished I could comb yours as I did hers. Would you mind if I did?" said the mother.

"I should love to have you," said Julia.