Brentwood (22 page)

“Oh!” said Betty. “We haven’t had a tree like that since I was Bonnie’s age. Things were pretty hard up while Father was saving money and trying to buy the house at Brentwood. We used to have a tiny little tree that we got late Christmas Eve when they were cheap, and we trimmed it with bits of tin foil and strings of cranberries and popcorn and little paper things we cut from advertisements.”

“I can imagine that would be fun,” said Marjorie. “Perhaps the children would like that best. Do you think they would?”

“Oh, no! They don’t really know much about a Christmas tree, not the kind you mean. Mother has always had something for them, but we’ve always had to work hard to make everything. Christmas would be nice if one didn’t have to worry about it all the time.”

“Yes, I can see how worry would spoil Christmas! Well, we’ll have one without worry this time, I hope, and whatever you say about a tree goes.”

They lay and talked a long time, and Marjorie succeeded in getting Betty to say that she liked a tree all in silver with just colored lights. She had always wanted such a tree.

“But I don’t want you to spend a lot more money on unnecessary things,” she finished.

“Well,” said Marjorie thoughtfully, “I don’t want to flaunt my money in your faces. It isn’t my fault that I have a lot of money. I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t do a thing to get it. And it isn’t any pleasure to me unless I can share it. If we could only have a nice time together and not think whose money it is, that would be a real Christmas for me. I’ve always had everything done for me before this, but it would be wonderful to be allowed to do things for other people, if I was sure I knew what they wanted.”

“Well then, have your own way!” cried Betty, and suddenly reached over and put a quick, shy kiss on her sister’s forehead. “I’ll enjoy every scrap of whatever you do. I’d like to be able to give you the earth on a gold platter, but I can’t, so I’ll just let you do the giving and be happy over what you do.”

They fell asleep at last, hand clasping hand, a real sisterly love growing in their hearts.

It was not until the second day later that Mr. Bryant sent Marjorie word that he had the papers ready for her. So Marjorie, amid a howl from the children, started off early in the morning again, having first set them to cutting out chains from silver paper for the Christmas tree. She had told them about the tree until their imaginations were on fire with joyous anticipation. She had bought silver and red paper, and two little pairs of pointless scissors and a bottle of paste at the drugstore, and given careful lessons on how to make chains, and the two youngest were established at the dining table with their tools before them with an order for many chains to be finished before she returned. Bud was acting as overseer and chief adviser.

To Marjorie, the day was full of excitement. It was so good to know that the matter of the house was going through all right and that she would carry home with her that afternoon the deed which she might do up in grandest Christmas wrappings for her father and mother.

Mr. Bryant told her that Mr. Melbourne had told him about her father, and he had been looking up several good openings that might materialize after Christmas. He didn’t tell her that he had been commissioned to look up Mr. Gay’s record and had found it absolutely unimpeachable, both as to ability and character, but she sensed that he spoke of her father with respect, and it cheered her heart. For more and more as the days went by, she yearned to lift that burden of worry and care from his shoulders and see his face calm and at peace.

“Do you suppose it would be possible, if there were an opening, that it could come as an offer from somewhere and not have him know that I asked about it?” she asked the lawyer shyly. “I think he would feel better about it that way.”

He seemed to understand, for he smiled and said, “I should think that might be arranged.”

So she went on her way to complete her shopping in a very happy frame of mind.

And then, right in the midst of the last few purchases, whom should she come square upon but the young minister from Brentwood, Gideon Reaver!

“Oh!” she said, a quick color flying into her cheeks, “I didn’t expect to recognize anybody in this big, strange city.”

He seemed as pleased as she was. He paused and talked to her a minute, told her how much he thought of Ted, and what a fine fellow he was going to be, and then he hesitated and looked down at her wistfully.

“I was just going into the tea room to get a bit of lunch,” he said. “I wonder if you wouldn’t join me? It’s lonely eating all by myself, especially in the midst of these happy Christmas crowds. It seems to emphasize one’s loneliness.”

“Why, I’d love to!” said Marjorie, with a sudden unreasoning feeling of having been crowned. She followed him through the Christmas throngs to a table in a corner where there was comparative quiet.

Marjorie, of course, had often been out to lunch with her young men friends, but somehow this seemed the rare experience of a lifetime. How silly she was! This man was an utter stranger. All she knew about him was that he could preach an interesting sermon and her brother adored him. Well, he was perfectly respectable, and nice and pleasant. Also, there would perhaps be opportunity to ask him a few questions that had been going over in her mind ever since Sunday. Meantime, she was tired, and it was nice to have found a friend in this strange city.

So she relaxed and enjoyed her lunch and the pleasant talk that went with it.

“I have been wanting to ask you something,” she said at last as the dessert was placed before them and the waitress hurried away again. “Perhaps this isn’t the place to talk about such things, but I would like to know something.”

“I’ll certainly be glad to help in any way I can,” he said.

“Well, then would you tell me please, how can you tell whether you’re saved or not? My brother Ted asked me if I was saved, and I didn’t know what to tell him. I never was asked a question like that before. I didn’t suppose it was a thing you could be sure about. I’m a church member, of course. But is there a way to be
sure
one is saved?”

“There surely is!” said Gideon, his eyes lighting eagerly.

She met his gaze earnestly.

“Sunday in your sermon you talked a lot about the new birth, and I don’t understand it at all. I’ve always been taught that if I was good, I would go to heaven when I die.”

“So was I,” said Gideon, smiling, “but that is not true.”

Marjorie gave him a startled look.

“No, because the law must be kept perfectly to be a means of salvation, and no one but Christ ever has or ever could be perfectly good, so it would be hopeless for us if that were the only way to heaven. But thank God it isn’t. We have His own word for it! Do you believe the Bible?”

“Oh, yes, of course. I don’t know so very much about it, I suppose, but, yes, I believe it.”

“Do you believe its Gospel, that Jesus was nailed to a cross for you, taking all the penalty of your sins by enduring God’s righteous judgment upon Himself?”

“Yes, of course, I believe that.”

“Well, do you believe that because He did that, God raised Him from the dead and exalted Him in the highest heavens?”

“Yes, indeed, I believe that, although I never heard it stated in just that way before.”

“You believe, then, that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God?”

“Why, certainly.”

“Well, then listen to what this says.”

He took a small testament out of his pocket and opened to 1 John 5:1.

“Whosoever believeth that Jesus is the Christ is born of God.”

The astonishment on her face changed slowly into illumination as she took in the wonderful truth.

“Then I am saved!” she exclaimed, her eyes softening with the wonder of it. “I am born again! Just because I believe, all that comes to me! I never knew it was as simple as that! I didn’t know ordinary mortals who had not studied theology could ever quite comprehend it. Born of God! What a wonderful thing to happen to me! I am so glad you have made me understand it.”

“Yes, it is simple as that,” said Gideon, his eyes drinking in her eagerness. “God said it and that makes it true, whatever your feelings are. And if you are born of God, that makes you His child! If you are born of God, you have His life! If you are born of God, you are possessed of the divine nature. Just as you are born of your father, Mr. Gay. That makes you have his life in you.”

Marjorie looked up, her eyes filled with wonder.

“You don’t understand how very apt that illustration is,” she said gravely. “You see, I’ve only known my own earthly father a little over a week. I was adopted by some very lovely people who rather took advantage of my parents when they had been unfortunate, because they took a fancy to me when I was very young. I never knew anything about my birth parents until after my adoptive parents died, leaving me a letter telling about it, and so I came to find my family. But you know, while my adoptive father and mother were precious people and loved me dearly, there is something about being an own child that is wonderful! I’ve found that out already, although I only know my birth father a very little yet.”

“Ah! That is truly wonderful! The analogy is perfect. And you will find out more and more of what it is to be an own child every day if you continue to live with your parents, just as you will find out more and more of the love and beauty of your heavenly Father if you abide in Him and walk with Him and come into a deeper and deeper knowledge of His word. There has to be intimacy to understand the relationship between father and child. What you have told me is most interesting, the testimony of a child who has come to find and know its earthly father, and is thrilled by the precious bond of relationship between them. But suppose now you should go back to Chicago and live. You would grow away from your newly found father again and perhaps become as indifferent as you were before. It must be a daily walk with God to make beautiful the relationship. Do you see?”

“Oh, I see! You have made it wonderfully clear! Why! I feel as I did when I first found out I had a family of my own! Thank you so much! I shall never forget what you have done for me.”

Suddenly Gideon glanced at his watch and looked startled.

“Excuse me,” he said, “I have a wedding in half an hour and I’ve barely time to make it. I didn’t realize how the time was going. May I talk with you again sometime about this?”

“Oh, I should love to talk to you,” said Marjorie. “I know almost nothing about the Bible!”

“You’ll have to begin to study it now.” He smiled as he turned to the waitress to get the check. “I’d love to help if I may. I have a little book that may help at the start. I’ll send it over to you. Good-bye, I wish I didn’t have to rush away. You’ve given me a wonderfully pleasant hour.”

“Oh, and you’ve shown me an inheritance I didn’t dream before that I had!” said Marjorie, with shining eyes.

As she took her way home an hour later, she reflected how utterly changed was her life in just a short week’s time. It almost seemed that she was a different girl from the one who had come up in the beautiful Wetherill mansion doing all the proper conventional things that a girl in her station should do, happy and carefree, a trifle wistful, and not quite satisfied. And now here she was in a new city, with a brand-new family all her very own, a new home, new interests, and at least one new friend. Unless she might also count the lawyer Mr. Bryant a friend, too, for he had been very kind. And not once had she felt a pang of regret for the things she had left behind her. Not once had she been sorry she had not accepted her other invitations for the holidays! Oh, of course, she sorrowed for the one who had been her mother for so many years, but that grief had been so gradual and final when Mrs. Wetherill was gone, that it was a thing she had to put aside entirely from her life or else be in continual mourning. And she was glad she had such an absorbing interest to divert herself from the loneliness that would surely have settled down upon her if she had stayed in the house alone and tried to go on with her life as it had been.

The doctor was there when she reached the house. He was standing in the living room talking to Betty, telling her about a certain Christmas in his childhood when he had been alone among strangers, desolate and forlorn, his only Christmas present a maple sugar Santa Claus. He had stood by the window all the afternoon licking it and staring out on a strange little western town because he had nothing else to do. He never had liked maple sugar since.

Betty stood in the doorway listening sympathetically to the story, and Marjorie thought she saw a wistful look in the young doctor’s eyes. She wondered if he had a home and family now to make Christmas merry for him, or was he lonely yet? If he was, how nice it would be if they were only in Brentwood and could invite him to Christmas dinner. Nice to have Gideon Reaver, too. But, of course, they couldn’t do anything like that in this little house, especially with Mother sick and nobody to help get the dinner. It was not to be thought of, but it was an idea for another year, supposing all went well. What nice times they could have in the lovely old house in Brentwood! Marjorie clutched the precious deed-papers happily in her hand and hurried upstairs to take off her hat and get ready to help with dinner.

That evening after supper they all gathered for a few minutes in her mother’s room, all but Ted, who had to go to his evening job.

Sunny came smiling in and pulled at Marjorie’s dress.

“ ’Nother Betty, story, please! ’Nother Betty! ’Nother Betty! Tell us a story, please!” he begged persistently.

“Oh, for pity’s sake!” said Betty petulantly. “Stop calling her that silly name! Mother, what are we going to call my sister? We can’t go around ignoring her, or calling her ‘you’ all the time. Nobody dares mention her, and I think it’s time we had some understanding about it. I’m sure she doesn’t want to go around as ‘’Nother Betty’ all the time. I guess it’s up to you, Mother, to tell us what to do. Are you well enough to think about it?”

The mother smiled.

“Oh, yes, I’m well enough, but I don’t think it is exactly up to me. It seems to me that the sister herself should be consulted. Your father and I have talked it over, and he feels that she should keep the name with which she was christened. He says it is her legal name. It is so recorded on her birth certificate, and in the papers of adoption, and also it is courteous for her to keep the name given her by the people who were father and mother to her all these years.”