Chapter 7

"Well, then, when the fire has died out, we will go up to her room. In the drawer there I have a little white dress that perhaps you would like. I will comb your hair just as I did hers and see if the dress will fit you," said Mrs. King. "If you look sweet and girlish in it, I will give it to you."

While Mrs. King slipped away to get the things needed for the hairdressing, Julia went to the great white bathroom, and when she came out her face was sweet and clean and every trace of the paint and powder was gone. Her pretty brown hair was down her back in ringlets and her face wore a look which the girls at the office had never seen there.

Then Mrs. King brushed, and brushed, and brushed till the hair was soft and shiny. Low in her neck she coiled it, making it look girlish and neat, fastening it with a tiny velvet circlet. Then Julia held her breath as Mrs. King took from a drawer a little white dress. It was a simple silk mull but it was prettily made. Below it was a dainty petticoat and at the bottom of the drawer were white oxfords and fine, lisle stockings.

"These were ready for her graduation, dear, but she never wore them once after they were made," said the mother softly, as she fingered the dress lovingly.

There were tears in the eyes of the mother and tears in the eyes of the girl as the dress was put on. And when Julia looked into the mirror she seemed to see a strange girl. How little she looked like the girls in the office! But she liked her hair--and she liked the looks of her face--and she loved the simple, white dress.

Last of all Mrs. King slipped about her neck a little string of pearls. "These are my gift to you, Julia," she said. "Wear them when you think you are dressed as you and I have planned to-night and be as beautiful as the pearls. Remember, dear, we may put beautiful things on the outside but they can never make us beautiful. It comes from the inside because of what we are. It stands the test of study. It is always real. A girl who does not live up to the best she knows can well be called a coward. Good night, dear, I am glad there is a girlie who loves me."

Then with a good-night kiss she was gone--gone, as Julia knew, to be more than ever lonely for her own little girl.

For a long time Julia stood looking at the dress, and the slippers, and the stockings. Mrs. King had plenty of money, yet these were to have been her daughter's graduation clothes. And she had not finished school because she could not have clothes like the rest of the girls who were to have expensive ones. Mrs. King was honored all through the city, yet she was dressed in a simple serge dress at the Country Club. It was all very strange! Some one had things very much mixed up concerning what a girl should wear. How long it seemed since she had left the office in the afternoon!

The room was so dainty that it took Julia a long time to get ready for bed. How she would love to have a room like this! Maybe it would be easy to be good. She looked at the dress again, as she laid it carefully over the chair. It was all hers. The girls would laugh at her but she loved it. Then she lifted the little string of pearls--not cheap, big ones such as she had worn on Sunday, but dainty, beautiful ones, and they whispered again to her,

"Be as beautiful as the beads, girlie. True beauty is never put on from the outside. It comes from inside because of what you are."

Long she stood in the moonlight near the window looking at them. Then she dropped on her knees and said,

"Dear God, she has shown me the best. Help me not to be a coward as I go out and try to do it. Help me to be as beautiful as the pearls. I thank Thee for to-day. I want to show others what real beauty is and how to get it. Please help me."

And the Father heard the prayer of the girl kneeling there in her white night-gown, for it came from a sincere heart--and He answered.

THE BEST DAY

By Mrs. Annie G. Freeman

One sunny summer afternoon Margaret sat reading beneath the shade of an old apple tree. Before her stretched a charming view but on her face was a troubled, dissatisfied look.

"Oh, dear," she sighed. "Even this book is stupid. It is the dullest, most stupid day that I ever saw."

"Stupid day?" said a tiny voice. There on the rock before her sat the daintiest little golden-haired fairy that she had ever seen. The fairy's feet were resting on a woodbine vine that was creeping up the wall, and her wings were as delicate as those of a butterfly.

"What makes such a bright day as this stupid?"

"Oh, I suppose it is myself," said the discontented girl.

"I believe it is," said the fairy. "Now I will take you with me to the Palace of Time and you shall choose a day that suits you better. Come."

Over green meadows, through pleasant pastures, beside babbling brooks that sparkled and played in the sunshine, the fairy led. At last they came to the Palace of Time. The fairy led the way up the long hall to the throne on which Time sat, and told her errand.

"Take the little friend to the Hall of Days," he said, "and give her the day that pleases her best."

How delighted the maiden was! Wouldn't you be if a fairy should take you out of a stupid day and promise you the day that pleased you most? She just skipped along, her feet scarcely touching the ground in her joy. In a great room filled with all kinds of bright lights, they stopped.

"This is the Hall of Days," said the fairy. "Take whichever day pleases you most."

Like great balls of glass the days were of many colors and of many kinds. Some were dark and some were light; some were dim and others clear.

One was like a crystal and the odor of roses seemed to come from it. Its colors were soft and Margaret gazed deep into it. Vague dreams seemed to come from it and memories happy and delightful. But she couldn't live on dreams and memories. That wouldn't do. She might like that sort of a day once in a while but her young life demanded something to do on the best day. This was a day that had gone.

One other day pleased her much. It shone like the sun on the new fallen snow. It was so white and so pure that she lifted it carefully lest she should soil and spot it.

"It is too bright. It hurts my eyes," said she, putting it back.

"Yes, little girl," said the fairy. "That is to-morrow. It must be shaded by many things before one can bear it."

Then, just between the two, Margaret spied the most beautiful ball of all. It wavered and shimmered; now it was red, now green, now yellow and now pink. Oh, there were so many colors that she could not name them all. Wave upon wave of color swept through it and all seemed shot with the golden lights.

"That is the one that I want," she cried happily. "That is the most beautiful day of all."

"Take it, then," said the fairy. "It is yours."

All the way home, the maiden clasped it tightly.

"With this day," she said, "I can be joyful. With this day I can make so many people happy, and it is so bright that I can see the best way in which to go. It is as light as a feather. I can hardly wait to show my friends the beautiful day that I have chosen, for I love it dearly."

"Yes, indeed," said the fairy, as she flew off in a different direction. "It is a wonderful day. Infinite wisdom and love helped you to choose aright. That is To-day."

"What a beautiful day!" said the maiden as she sat in the shade of the old apple tree. "I believe I have been dreaming. But this is too beautiful a day to idle it away. I will go and do something for some one to make others see its beauty also."

IN THE WAY

Gladys Mercer sat looking at a snapshot which had come to her from one of her girl friends. It showed a strong, athletic woman with a blanket rolled over her back hiking along the road and with her six girls in middies and bloomers. And as Gladys looked at the picture, she smiled at the memories which it brought.

There was the long hike, the tired muscles, the view from the mountaintop, the wonderful sunset, the stillness of the night and the fear of the dark. Then there was the voice of the woman in the picture,

"Girls, you are safer here than in any house you could find. Just remember that God is over all and sleep as sound as can be."

Then there was the sunrise, the pancake breakfast on the hill, and the hike home. Best of all there had been two long days with Mrs. Fuller, the friend of girls. What a good visit they had had with her! What a fine story she had told them at the sunset! What a helpful prayer she had made as they closed their good-night song when the sun went down!

And then from the thought of the trip, Gladys went to the thought of all that Mrs. Fuller had meant to her. She was sunny; she was happy in her work through the day, and happy to give her time to them at night; she was always ready to advise and help; she seemed to know just what to do when they did not know; somehow she could always get them to do the thing they had thought they would not do. She was to Gladys, the motherless girl, a friend, a companion, a leader and a heroine.

What was there about her that made her able to lead? Was it her smile? Was it her ability to do things? What made a leader anyway?

Gladys leaned far back against the old tree under which she had been sitting and said to herself, "I wish--I wish----"

"And what do you wish," said a little voice, and there close to her was a dear little lady dressed in red and in her hand she carried a lamp.

"Who are you?" said Gladys.

"I am the Fairy of Helpful Service," said the little lady. "I heard you talking about one of my helpers, so I was interested to know what you wished when you thought of all she had done for you girls. Now tell me. What do you wish?"

"If you are a fairy, perhaps you can give me my wish. I wish to be like Mrs. Fuller. I want to help girls. I want to get the kind of letters she gets from girls who are far away. I want to see 'my girls' some day giving service all over the world as she does. I want to be like her. Please, fairy, give me my wish."

"I can't make you like her but I can put you in the way of service and then, if you choose, you can become like her and get the things you are asking for. Those things are not given--they are earned, and the cost of them is heavy. I don't really think you mean what you say, for you haven't even wanted to go to school to learn to help. Perhaps the best way would be to let you see _her_ in the way and then you can choose for yourself whether you want your gift. Come and we will watch her climb the way."

So the Fairy of Helpful Service and the girl who wanted to be a leader went together into the House of the Past.

"There," said the fairy, "there is Mrs. Fuller as a little girl. We will watch her grow and you may see where she earned some of the qualities which you admire in her."

There she was, a mischievous little girl of ten, as happy as the day was long.

"Here she is laying the foundation for health," said the fairy, "with long hours of sleep and good food and plenty of play. One begins away back in girlhood to be a leader. Some who would have been good helpers for me cannot serve because they did not begin early enough to get ready."

Then as the little girl played there came into the way a black, black cloud. Gladys shuddered as it came nearer and nearer to the little girl and finally enveloped her. It was death--the death of her father, but after the cloud had passed and the sunshine had come again, the fairy said,

"See, her shoulders are broader. She has learned what loneliness means."

On she went and then she was going to High School. Others had clothes that she did not have. She must hurry to finish because there was no father in the home. So, eagerly she pushed through the High School.

Just here Gladys saw a hand reached out to help and heard a voice saying to the girl, "Of course it will be hard but you can go to college if you really want to go. It will do you good to sacrifice for it." 'Twas the Master of the school who was helping her to keep in the way.

"Can you see her grow?" said the fairy. "She has added concentration, an appreciation of the girl who has little and who must be with girls who have much, and now she has been given a vision."

Then Gladys watched her toil through college, earning her way, often overtired and worried as to where the means to go on were to come from. But she pushed ahead.

"Oh," said Gladys, "how hard she works! I could never do that. I am sorry for her."

"You needn't be," said the fairy. "You need never be sorry for those that sacrifice for an ideal. Be sorry for those who have none and so who live at ease." And they watched her struggle through temptation and toil to the graduation day.

As the college days passed, there came strength of purpose, but there came also the desire to serve. Gladys watched her lead the little group of dirty street boys in the slums.

"How can she do it?" said Gladys. "They are so dirty and so rough."

But the fairy said, "When one wants to serve, she looks at the heart and the life--not at the clothes and the actions. The boys are helping her to keep in the way."

And after college there were happy days. Days of love and comradeship, days of work for the fairy; days when opportunity was everywhere. And in these days of happiness there came lessons of sharing, of winning, of filling the life with sunshine. The path was so bright that it dazzled.

Suddenly, Gladys looked ahead in the path. "Look," she said to the fairy. "Look, oh, how black it is! Oh, I am sorry."

Then the storm descended and all was black in the way--oh, so black and to move took all of one's strength. Against it she struggled, but it seemed as though she must surely be driven from the path. Death and loneliness and worries seemed overpowering.

But the storm passed and, when once again there was peace, a great strength had come in its place, for there was sympathy for others who suffered, there was an appreciation of the value of friendship, and there was a knowledge that God helps.

Little by little the road widened, though often it was lonely and hard. There were many steep places but each added something. And then Gladys saw the picture change.

There was Mrs. Fuller with her girls and she was leading them by the hand. But it was by no means easy. Some held back; some chose to play by the way; some looked longingly at the things by the wayside that would harm. But her one hand reached up and her other hand helped them ahead as she tried to keep them in the way.

As the picture faded, Gladys turned to the fairy. "I thought it had been all sunshine but now I see how hard it has been to learn to understand and to help. I love her better than I did before, now that I have seen her in the way. Thank you, fairy."

"But wait," said the fairy. "You asked me for a gift. Do you still want it? Do you still want to follow her?"

"To follow means study, and sacrifice, and temptations conquered, and sympathy, and all sorts of hard things, doesn't it? I never thought about it. But I love Mrs. Fuller and I still want to lead girls--I still want the letters and I still want to be like her. Please, Fairy of Good Works, put me in the way and I will go back to school and begin to get ready."

Then the little lady smiled as she waved her wand over the head of the girl. "Your life may be much more sunny than hers, dear. Not all must have the same things to overcome. But whatever you meet in the way, you must struggle against it and come out stronger because you have struggled. Can you see away off there in the distance the hands of girls--oh, so many of them--eagerly reached out for help? They are 'your girls.' And here is the way. Above there is one who helps and I am here though you may not see me. Push forward or the girls will have no helper. Good-by and good luck to you."

But as Gladys reached out to detain her, her hat fell to the ground and she found herself sitting against the tree. In her hand was the picture of Mrs. Fuller and her girls. Long she looked at the picture. Then she said to herself,

"I never knew the way was so long or so hard to be like you but if just one girl can love me some day as I love you, then I shall be glad I have walked in the way. I am ready to try and I hope I can win."

AN OLD, OLD STORY

It was a dark and rainy day when about the inn-fire, close to the great caravan way that led through Canaan, in the land of Palestine, a group of camel-drivers and travelers were gathered. They looked very different from what they do to-day, for nearly four thousand years have passed since then. But they were all huddled together listening to stories and songs.

In the group there were men from Egypt; there were men from Babylon, the great city far to the East; there were men from the land of Canaan; and then there were some wandering nomads who had lately come from the East and so were called by the Canaanites "Hebrews," which means, "People from the Other Side." Most of these men were shepherds, but they loved to meet with the camel-drivers and learn of the customs and habits of the people of other lands. 'Twas a strange group of men sitting about the little fire.

In those days, as now, men loved to tell stories that had come down to them from their fathers and grandfathers, and often they found that a story from Egypt was but little different from one that had been told in Babylonia. So they loved to listen to the story-tellers.

But on this day it had rained and rained till the streams were full and the way was very hard to go. Thus there were very many men in the inn. 'Twas the turn of the Babylonian, so he began,

"I will tell you one of the very oldest of our stories--about a great rain-storm.

"Years and years and years ago the Gods in heaven began to fear that the men of the earth were going to live forever and so they made a plan by which to destroy them. There should be a great rain for days and days and days, and all these men and women and children should be drowned. Then the Gods would be free from their worries.

"But one of the Gods named Ea had a friend who lived on the earth, and so he sent word to him to go with all his family into a big, big ship and take with him two of every kind of animals. Utnapishtim, the friend, did as he was told.

"Then the rain came and for six days and nights there was no let-up at all. Deeper and deeper it grew till the Gods in heaven grew afraid and cowered in the highest corner of heaven. By this time every living thing, except the ones in the big ship, was destroyed.

"But after six days, the rain ceased. Then the man sent out a dove, but it returned, for it could find no place to rest. Later he sent out a raven and it did not come back, so he knew the waters were going down. Then he made a great sacrifice to the Gods and they came, they saw the great destruction and they gloated over it, pleased that their plan had worked so well."

There was applause when he had finished from many of the group, but the Hebrews did not applaud. They had been taught that there was one true God, not many Gods. They had been taught that God was kind to all and not one that gloated over destruction of men. They were not pleased with the story of the great flood.

Then there came nights out under the stars and they heard the stories of how the earth was made; of how man came to be; of the meaning of many of the things that they saw all about them. But in every story there were found Gods who were cruel, who were unkind, who quarreled and fought. There were many, many Gods, but none was like unto their God.

As the old Hebrews listened to all these old, old stories from the countries about them which were told so often, they shook their heads sadly and said,

"We have come into this country to live and bring up our children. But if they hear these stories, they will believe some of them and forget the true God. They must have stories of their own that show how great and mighty is the God of Israel. But what shall we do about these stories? If we say the stories are false, they will laugh at us and say, 'Why, our people have known these stories since long, long before there was a Hebrew on the earth. What our fathers have told us as true is surely true.' And if we say to our children, 'You must not listen to these stories,' they will be all the more eager to listen. What shall we do?"

Finally it was decided that the stories of the Egyptians and the Babylonians must be remade so as to be fit for their children to hear and they must teach the beliefs of their own religion in stories of their own.

So, many weeks later as the men were gathered out under the stars on a beautiful night, one of the best of the Hebrew story-tellers said quietly,

"I have listened to stories about the making of the world from many of you but I think my story is better than any you have told. Would you like to hear the story of how the God of Israel made the world?"

"'Tis a Hebrew who is talking," said one. "I didn't know you people had any stories. Give it to us. Then we can compare it with our own great stories."

And the Hebrew story-teller began:

"In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And these are the generations of the heavens and the earth when they were created in the day that the Lord God made the earth and the heavens,

"And every plant of the field before it was in the earth and every herb of the field before it grew; for the Lord God had not caused it to rain upon the earth, and there was not a man to till the ground.

"But there went up a mist from the earth and watered the whole face of the ground.

"And the Lord God formed man out of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.

"And out of the ground made the Lord God to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight and good for food; the tree of life also in the midst of the garden and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

"And the Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to dress it and to keep it.

"And out of the ground the Lord God made every beast of the field and every fowl of the air and brought them unto Adam to see what he would call them: and whatsoever Adam called every living creature, that was the name thereof."

There was silence when the story was finished. This God of whom the Hebrew was telling was wise and mighty enough to make the world, yet he was thoughtful and kind. He allowed man to be a helper. There was only one God. They liked the story so well that they began to tell it also and soon the beautiful story was known all through the land of Canaan. Little by little it drove out the other stories and became the most loved one.

And when the old Hebrews saw the power of the story that told of the _one_ great God rather than the many false Gods, they just took many of the old stories and made them good and wholesome for their own little children to hear.

So great were the stories that the old Hebrews told that you will find many of them living still. You can read them in your own Bible in the book of Genesis.

Ever since that day years and years ago, men have been asking that same old question, "Who made the world?" The greatest men of science and history have tried to answer it, but none of them have found a more beautiful answer to the question than this one which the old sheik told in the days of the long ago and which you will find in the second chapter of Genesis in your Bible.

HIS DEBT

It was a hot, sultry day in that little town near the Western coast of Africa when Afa Bibo came. He had had a long, long journey from his home among the Ntum people far to the south of Efulen. So he, as well as the men who had brought him, was glad when they saw the rude little hospital looming up at the end of the path.