Part 12

"'They that are His have crucified the flesh with the affections and lusts.'

"Does that mean, think you, that in times of national distress, of religious trial, of crises for every interest and hope of humanity--none of you will cease jesting, none will cease idling, none put themselves to any wholesome work, none take so much as a tag of lace off their footmen's coats to save the world? Or does it rather mean that they are ready to leave houses and lands and kindred--yes, and life if need be? Life! Some of us are ready enough to throw that away, joyless as we have made it. But station in life--how many are ready to quit that? Is it not always the great objection when there is a question of finding something useful to do--we cannot leave our stations in life?"--(John Ruskin.)

Margaret found her mother ill. She had been working beyond her strength, and the exposure and hardship of the work had worn her out; and her eyes, tried beyond their strength, had almost failed her. Dr. Eldrige Jr. had told her that the only hope of saving them lay in rest and quiet. But how impossible was this; she had no means, for years she had worked beyond her strength to keep herself from beggary. Jamie, the cripple, was not able to leave his couch without help. Day after day, while his mother worked for the pittance that kept them alive, he lay on his little cot, alone; often in pain, always lonely, counting the hours until his mother's return.

"We will take your mother and Jamie home with us, Margaret," Mrs. Thorpe said. "We can all live together until your mother is well again, and Jamie need not be alone."

Margaret consented to the plan. She understood the power that ruled Mrs. Thorpe's life and prompted her actions. She had looked into her face and found it warm with kindness, and with keener vision she had looked into her heart and found it touched with the feeling of another's infirmities. She knew that this thing that she proposed to do was not an act of charity prompted by the desire to save the harrowing of her own feelings, but because of her loving kindness she desired to do it.

Mrs. McGowan was too much overcome by the restoration of her girl to protest, and Jamie was radiant at the prospect. Mrs. Thorpe called on Mrs. Mayhew and left Margaret alone with her mother for a time. And afterwards Mrs. Mayhew sent her carriage to take Mrs. McGowan and Jamie to Mrs. Thorpe's cottage. Before parting, Mrs. Mayhew pressed a banknote into Mrs. Thorpe's hand.

"You shall not have all the merit there is in the case, you loving soul, you good Samaritan," she said. "Let me share your good deed with you."

The day passed quietly at the cottage. It was mild and clear and the first indications of spring were visible. The great banks of snow were beginning to show reefs along their sides and the atmosphere contained a suggestion of the change of seasons.

Margaret was more like the winsome lass of former years than she had been for many months, and her mother's eyes followed her lovingly. Faith and Hope, immortal sisters, what magic in the tones they cause to vibrate upon the human heart-strings! All the world and all the glory of it is ours when Faith and Hope sing for us their seraphic song.

Margaret took Jamie to her room at bedtime.

"You shall have a little cot near me, my boy," she said. "I am going to be your nurse, and whatever your wants may be it shall be my pleasure to supply them."

The boy smiled happily.

"It is a good world, after all, Margy," he said, when they were alone for the night. "I have always tried to make mother believe it is a good world. Mother's eyes will get better now, wont they, sister?"

"There is a great Physician who heals all kinds of infirmities, Jamie. He used always to be especially kind to the blind."

"Did He pity them more because it is so very bad not to see?"

"Perhaps that was the reason. He was always very, very kind."

"Have you seen Him, this great man, Margy?"

"I have felt His healing power, little brother."

"Do you suppose--sister--could He make me walk like other boys, and run--oh, Margy, do you suppose I ever can run?"

"There is nothing the great Physician cannot do, Jamie."

Margaret reached for her Bible, one that Mrs. Thorpe had given her. She turned the leaves until she found the place that she desired.

"I am going to read you something that I have read many times, Jamie, and always with thoughts of you in mind:

"'And a certain man, lame from his mother's womb, was carried, whom they laid daily at the gate of the temple which is called Beautiful, to ask alms of them that entered into the temple.

"'Who, seeing Peter and John about to go into the temple, asked an alms.

"'And Peter, fastening his eyes upon him with John, said: "Look on us."

"'And he gave heed unto them, expecting to receive something of them.

"'Then Peter said: "Silver and gold have I none; but such as I have I give to thee. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk." And he took him by the right hand and lifted him up, and immediately his feet and ankle bones received their strength.

"'And he, leaping up, stood and walked and entered with them into the temple, walking and leaping and praising God.'"

When the boy saw his sister take up a familiar-looking black book and begin turning the pages, his heart fell within him. He listened while she read of the compassionate act of love, then he covered his face with his hands and burst into tears.

"Oh, Margy, I didn't think you would--that's the Bible, Margy, the book mother used to read out of--the one Mr. Thorpe used to preach from--only the Bible, and I thought you meant it really, about the great doctor!"

"Only the Bible!" Margaret looked at the child and saw the disappointment in his face; and through him she seemed to see a great world of suffering people. This frail child, crippled, distorted, disappointed and faithless, seemed to her a symbol of the great suffering overwhelming the world, and his piteous cry an echo of the voice of the world: "Only the Bible!"

The whole world calling for power and turning dully from the great fountain-head of Power; crying for strength and ignoring that which constitutes all strength; desiring health and clasping close in their embrace the image of disease; pleading for light and joy and peace and turning their eyes resolutely away from the waiting angels standing ready to minister to them. "Only the Bible!"

Margaret knelt by the child's couch and put her arms about him.

"Little brother," she said, "little brother, let me tell you a story, as I used to do, Jamie.

"Once there was a great mine of gold, beautiful, shining gold, layer upon layer of it; and many men mined for it, and some dug in the ground, and a great many people worked day after day, some in one way and some in another, to find it. And many of the people disagreed about the best way to get at it. Some dug about the outer edges of the mine, and when they found a very few grains of gold they went away and told all the people that they had found all the gold there was; that they had explored the whole mine and knew all about it. Others did not dig deep enough to find the great golden layers, but they found a few glittering nuggets of the precious gold, and they went away and told all the people that they had gone to the bottom of the mine and had found all the gold there was there.

"Thousands and thousands of people went to the mine. Some found gold enough to satisfy them, others found only a few shining grains, and many went away disappointed. But the strange part of it was that all those who found any gold at all, even if it was only a tiny spark, believed they had found all there was.

"There were so many different opinions about it, and so many theories and beliefs, that after a time the people began to wonder whether there was really any gold in the mine at all. Some doubted and disbelieved, and a great many walked all about over the mine and had not faith enough to dig beneath the surface.

"Yet the gold was there, Jamie--it is there--a great mine of beautiful, shining gold. There is enough for everyone; yet few have obtained a supply sufficient for their own needs."

The story was finished and there was silence in the room. Then the thin little hand crept into Margaret's.

"Is that the way you think about the Bible, Margy?"

"Yes, Jamie. The Bible is a great mine of Truth; few, if any, have found the whole of it, and many, many have not found sufficient for their needs."

The boy's eyes were grave and serious; a grain of truth had been sown in fertile soil. Then after a time the blue-veined lids fluttered and closed and the boy fell asleep.

The spring opened early; the great drifts of snow yielded beneath the sun's warm rays and miniature rivulets and rills rushed and babbled down the hillside. Bare brown patches of earth showed here and there over the Flat, and unsightly piles of rubbish and debris were again laid bare; the mantle that had covered them melted and slipped away as though glad to be free.

The children of the Flat, long housed in close, cramped quarters, were hilarious at sight of the brown Mother Earth; and this great-hearted Mother to whom they turned instinctively never fails and never disappoints, but remains always heart to heart with the best in human nature. Poor waifs of children they were, unkept and ill-clad in spite of the efforts that had been made in their behalf.

There was no school on the Flat; the children who went to school climbed the long hill and went over into Edgerly and entered the ranks with the Edgerly fledglings. But many of these children never climbed the long hill, never saw the Christian city and never entered a schoolhouse.

Mrs. Thorpe had long felt that these children should be gathered together and instructed; now the conviction came to her that it must be done.

The fathers of these children wasted their substance in gambling houses and dens of vice, and their mothers eked out a wretched existence as best they could. Young men and women were walking in the footsteps of those who were lost in this wilderness, and the children were following on. Their scrawny limbs must reach out and grow to adult stature and their minds, already befogged by the uncleanliness that had been their portion from birth, were twining about the mean, demoralizing things that lead to destruction.

On the outskirts of the Flat where the Flat proper began to rise in undulations and low hills, from which could be seen stretches of field and upland, there stood an old, weather-beaten house. It was large and square and porches had once run the length of its sides. This old building had once been a summer hotel, or resort, as it was called. Vines that had been planted about it in those days now clambered about the partly fallen columns and endeavored, as Nature often endeavors, to hide from view unsightly blots and blemishes. There may be people who would cavil at using this building because of the various uses to which it had been put since the days of its freshness and popularity.

When the balance of interest became established on the Edgerly side, and the Resort fell off in the patronage of the better class of people, an unsavory fame came to attach itself to the place. We sometimes hear old tales of disembodied spirits who walk through halls and corridors and flit about apartments that they were wont to inhabit in the days of their flesh. But if the crime and suffering, the shame and woe that had existed beneath the roof of this crumbling old Resort had massed itself in one monster shape and walked the streets of the city over the hill, men and women would have cried out for a place to hide themselves, as did the Canaanites when the walls of Jericho fell down.

When gruesome stories regarding the place began to float about, when the scurry of rats and the rattling of blinds and the whistling of the wind through the crevices came to be known as the wailing and moaning of lost spirits, the place was deserted; and so it had stood for years, ruined and forsaken. But whoever might cavil at the building because of its infamous notoriety of the past, Mrs. Thorpe had no compunctions and no fears. She saw in the deserted rooms beneath the crumbling roof a place for the children, the neglected, untaught children of the Flat. Bit by bit a plan formed in her mind and grew from day to day until, full-fledged, but lacking yet in detail, she laid it before Margaret. And as though while she had been pondering the main plan, Margaret had been arranging the minor parts; now all the way seemed open before them.

The first step was to see the owner of the building and get his consent to use it for a school and kindergarten. The greater part of the Flat district was owned by a descendant of the first Bolton. This man in his younger days had cherished the old hope that the Flat would yet make a prosperous town. There is more money to be made from ownership of a prosperous, respectable town than from a disreputable Flat; but if he could not own a respectable town and make his money in a creditable manner there was but one thing left for him to do, and he put his foot squarely on his honor and did it. He saw that saloons and places of vice were erected to lure the sort of population that must people a wretched Flat.

Mrs. Thorpe called on this man at his business office in Edgerly. He regarded her keenly as she explained to him the use she wished to make of the old Resort.

"So you wish to open a school on the Flat?" he said. The expression on his face was inscrutable and his small eyes were so far sunk into the folds of flesh which surrounded them that it was difficult to know just where his gaze was directed.

"It is a long walk to the Edgerly school for the little children," she said, "and if they do not go when they are small it is difficult to get them started later."

"Exactly. I think I understand, Mrs. Thorpe." The small eyes, sunken in their folds of flesh, were looking for the future recruits for the saloons and places of vice, and the man's mind was busy with a fine calculation as to where they were coming from if these children were to be so taught as to make self-respecting citizens of them.

Sometimes we feel the atmosphere about us to be keen and rare, sometimes fragrant with the breath of flowers and the incense of morning dew; again we are aware that it is charged with a coming storm, or dark with impurities, or heavy with moisture. There are those who are as keenly sensitive to the mental atmosphere about them. Mrs. Thorpe felt strongly that unless her faith in the integrity of her purpose sustained her, her undertaking must fail before it had drawn the first full breath of life. She had stated her purpose and asked the favor and she felt little inclined to beg or plead for its fulfillment. Yet a battle was fought, keen and sharp. There was no flashing of swords nor pomp nor parade, neither were there words nor argument. It was the play of mind upon mind; penetrating, forceful. It was thought pitted against thought; right demanding its own. The small eyes shifted about uneasily and the man moved ponderously in his chair. When he spoke again his voice expressed his irritability.

"It is not my policy to let my buildings free of charge, Mrs. Thorpe. What consideration can you offer me for the use of this building?"

Mrs. Thorpe realized that she had not fallen into the hands of a philanthropist; she was fully aware that the man was not in sympathy with her plans. Without a moment's hesitation or a word of protest she drew from her purse the banknote that Mrs. Mayhew had pressed upon her, and handed it to him.

"How long may I have the use of the place for that amount?" she asked.

He held the money in his fingers as though testing its quality, and his eyes were fixed upon it, but the struggling soul within him was making him very uncomfortable. How merciless are the voices that contend in the soul of a man! These children of the Flat--was he in any way responsible for them? They were no better than so many rats in their holes--the houses that he provided were miserable holes--the wretched children--but why should he charge this woman rent for an old, deserted building set in a thicket of briars and brambles?

"You may have the building for the summer, if you like," he said aloud.

Mrs. Thorpe's eyes were upon him curiously. She could not tell how it happened, nor when, nor why, but she became aware that this pompous man of wealth had lost his air of condescension and self-conscious superiority.

"And now as I am paying you rent for this property," she said, "you will, I hope, make some needed repairs on the building and perhaps put the ground in a little better shape?"

The small eyes seemed to stand out from the enfolding flesh to look her full in the face. And that which they saw there aroused a smouldering spark of manhood. He turned to his desk and wrote rapidly for a few minutes. He handed her the paper. It was an order for whatever improvements she wished for both building and grounds.

"Present this to my business manager," he said, "and your bills will be paid."

Mrs. Thorpe arose at once and thanked him very sincerely.

"You are very kind," she said, "and I believe that you will never regret this day's work, liberal though it has been."

*CHAPTER XVII*

*EVERY WHIT WHOLE*

Poverty, poverty, the curse of the Flat--the curse of all on whom its blighting influence falls! We have been told that the love of money is the root of all evil. The misuse of money is the most atrocious thing in our civilization; but poverty is a devastating monster that crushes out the better nature of men as relentlessly as any monster of the jungle crushes its victim between its giant jaws.

Nature is prolific, lavish, luxurious; there is neither limit nor measure to her bounty and generosity. The ever-faithful Friend of man withered the fig tree because it failed to bring forth fruit. Everywhere over the wide earth we see provision made for the needs of men. Food, shelter and clothing the world does not lack. Nature's storehouses circle the globe, and they are never empty. Vast, measureless seedbeds, watered and warmed from Heaven, impelled by an unseen Power, are growing and producing the seasons through. Forests of fruit trees yielding their succulent, sweet-flavored fruit; oceans of grain fields, whose length and breadth the eye cannot measure--to feed the human race. Cotton, wool and hemp and the patient spinning of the silk-worm--to clothe the children of men; quarries of stone and forests of wood to provide shelter from sun and storm. Let us never, even in our weakest, most irreverent moments, voice a protest against the great and generous Giver of this boundless, countless wealth because of the disposition men have made of it.

Some day, that bright, blessed day that even now is dawning, men will not keep and hoard that for which they have no need, and for the lack of which a fellow man perishes and dies. When this day dawns no man will desire more of this world's goods than he can use and enjoy. Men will not seat themselves at a feast and stuff and feed until their bodies distend and their eyes start from their sockets while the wail of hungry children echoes in the land.

The monster, cruel, relentless, immovable, that Mrs. Thorpe found everywhere on the Flat was Poverty. This monster may spring from a gentle mother, more sinned against than sinning, but it is sired by Ignorance and the stamp upon its forehead is Vice.

Mrs. Thorpe visited in these poor, barren homes; she became acquainted with the people and was a friend to all, and with tact and patience she presented to them the desirability of the school that she was about to open.

The boys, profane, reared in immorality, knew her and in their boyish hearts admired her. When she called upon them and solicited their aid they responded readily, and devastating war was waged upon the briers and brambles that cumbered the soil around the old Resort. And while the ground that she planned for flower beds and vegetable gardens yielded up its unprofitable growth and was made ready for the plowman's steel the boys were receiving Nature's best discipline, the tug and sweat of honest work.

A workman skilled with tools, but who had abandoned his trade for the gambler's fortunes, was called upon and pressed into service to mend the broken roof and place again the crumbling columns. And when this work was finished the man, feeling again the spirit of manhood revived by honest work, went over into Edgerly and obtained steady employment; and his wife and children awoke to a new appreciation of life. The wife took a lot of the ground that lay back of the old Resort and vied with her neighbors in raising her beds of vegetables--tender lettuce, green peas and cucumbers.

As the summer wore on, the old Resort, robbed of its superstitions and the evil hold its uncanny tales had had upon the minds of the people, stood forth erect in the midst of cultivated grounds. The babble and chatter of children's voices echoed through it and exorcised the last remaining trace of evil that may have lingered there.

It had been somewhat difficult to induce the women whose children attended the school to plant and care for the garden lots, and their somewhat reluctant consent to do this was given more as a favor to Mrs. Thorpe than from any interest in the work. But he who cultivates Nature becomes interested in spite of himself. And as the brown seeds quickened and sent forth their little flame of life and developed into vigorous plants, each after its kind, the flame of Truth and Immortality in the hearts of the workers revived and grew and expanded.

The goddess Ceres vied with the Bacchus of the Flat and in a measure was the winner. In the cool of the summer evenings, when the day was slipping away and the earth prepared her bath of cooling dew, men, vicious-faced and with bloodshot eyes and unkept hair and beards, had been wont to take themselves to the dens of vice and quaff the cup in which the hissing serpent lurks; but now there was another attraction on the Flat. The owners of the garden lots would gather around the old Resort in the evenings to dig and weed and hoe, and the men fell into the way of strolling over to view the work of their wives' hands, and before the summer was over there was not a place on the Flat more popular than this. And sometimes a man whose heart was not all bad would take the rake and hoe and assist in the work. And then there were some whose memories took them back to boyhood days on the old farm, before the Evil One came with his false promises of pleasure.

Sometimes Mrs. Thorpe would induce the parents to come into the schoolroom and she would show them the work that their children were doing; and sometimes she would talk to the mothers about the care and management of their children and of their homes, and other subjects of interest; and then sometimes in passing their houses she would see that a window had been cleaned and a curtain, or perhaps a clean newspaper answering the place of a curtain, had been put up; or perhaps she would observe that some rubbish pile had been removed, or that a walk had been cleaned, and as she noticed these small improvements she felt that she had received her reward, and went on her way with strengthened purpose.