Chance of a Lifetime (17 page)

“Oh, am I?” said Alan unenthusiastically. “Well, if you say so, I suppose I am, but it looks mighty dumb to me without you around to stir us up.”

“But Alan! You mustn’t be a killjoy. I thought you believed in being cheerful! Come now, don’t spoil my last night.”

“All right, I won’t,” said the boy, setting his mouth in one of his old grins. “I’ll be as cheerful as a little red lantern. Is this the street that Morse woman lives in? Now, which house in that row do you guess it is?”

“The third from the last,” said Sherrill quickly. “I went to see her yesterday so I’m sure.”

They drew up at the curb, and Sherrill watched her escort as he went up to the dingy, unpainted door and knocked. Noticed how courteously he lifted his hat to the slatternly neighbor who opened the door, and who was expecting to care for the baby while Mary Morse was away.

Mary came out presently, looking half frightened and drawing her shabby coat on over an attempt at holiday garb as she came. A little three-year-old toddled after her and embarrassed her more deeply by insisting on having a kiss on her dirty little face. Mary administered a slap furtively, and sent the child crying, and then looked after her with distress in her eyes.

“Go comfort her, Mary,” called Sherrill. “Don’t leave her feeling unhappy. We’ve plenty of time to wait for you.”

Mary gave a grateful glance toward the car, vanishing precipitately into the gloomy house, whence presently the sobs ceased, and Mary reappeared with an air of excitement upon her.

“She’s awful spoiled,” said Mary as she climbed excitedly into the car. “I’ve had her and the baby mostly since they was born, and they don’t know what to make of me going off.”

“Poor little kid,” said Sherrill. “Alan, didn’t we have a bag of peppermints somewhere about this car? Here it is, in this pocket. They won’t need them up at the supper. I noticed the dishes were all filled. Take them back to her.”

“Oh, don’t trouble,” said Mary embarrassedly. “She’s got to learn I isn’t on tap all the time.”

But Alan found the peppermints and took them back to the door, where five children were crowded with open mouths, staring at the car, the weeping baby in the foreground.

But when Alan popped a peppermint into her mouth and handed her the whole bag, she looked up in the midst of a howl and bestowed first a wondering stare and then a ravishing smile, and that showed beauty even through the dirt.

“Poor little beggar,” said Alan afterward. “She thought I was an angel from heaven. I’ll remember that and take peppermints next time I go”—but that was on the way home, much later in the evening.

Sherrill welcomed Mary with her best smile, and chattered pleasantly all the way without making it necessary for Mary to answer once, and they drove around to get Alan’s guest, Sam O’Reilly.

Sam jumped into the front seat with Alan with scant courtesy, and a bravado to cover his embarrassment. His hair was very wet and very slick, so wet from recent combing that a drop or two kept dripping down his red neck and down one cheek. His collar was too tight, and he kept easing it up and out, and his flaring necktie matched his red hair. He acknowledged the greetings from Sherrill with downcast eyes and a “fresh” remark, which under other circumstances might have annoyed her, but her mind was intent on making a success of this party, and it gave her a keen understanding that passed over little trifles. She realized that was Sam’s way of carrying off what was to him a terribly trying ordeal.

The sun had set, leaving a deep crimson streak in the west, and above, in a clear emerald field, a single star shone like a jewel as they drove up to the barn.

T
he great doors were open wide and the fire flamed up around the big logs in the wide fireplace, playing over the new boards of the floor and gleaming tables with their white cloths and shining glass and silver, flickering over the big beams overhead, and throwing furtive shadows in the distant corners where sheaves of corn and wheat were stacked and strange pumpkin faces gleamed out unexpectedly from every shadow.

“Oh, my land! Isn’t that wonderful!” said Mary Morse with a choking sound in her voice as if she wanted to cry. “It looks just like heaven might be, don’t it?”

“Gee, that’s great!” said Sam O’Reilly, his volubility suddenly hushed into silence after that one exclamation.

“It does look cheery, doesn’t it?” said Alan eagerly, realizing all at once how great and far-reaching had been this scheme of Sherrill’s to get together with the young people of the Flats; thinking that only Sherrill, of all their merry bunch, could have conceived and carried out such an occasion.

They all alighted and joined the other merry arrivals who were thronging strangely, almost agedly, into the wide barn door. The hosts and hostesses escorted their guests to the dressing rooms in the extreme far corners of the barn, the girls to the right, boys to the left, where there were pegs for hanging their hats and coats, and dressing tables with mirrors and pumpkin-hooded lights. Great screens stretched across in front gave privacy.

In the soft, weird light of the big open fire, with the quaint little pumpkin faces grinning from the dark corners, it seemed a strange enchanted land into which the company had arrived. The strangers shrank back and stared then entered hesitating, shyly, and giggling over the newness of everything.

The hosts and hostesses had unbent royally. They companioned with the girls and boys from the Flats merrily. They led their guests in and helped them hang their wraps on the wooden pegs and introduced them to those who were standing around, just as if they were strangers, although many had gone to school together in the public school several years before, when the dividing line between social classes was not so strongly marked. But here tonight they were all ladies and gentlemen, and the guests from the Flats were on their good behavior. Indeed, they felt strange and shy to be other than polite, though there had been one or two among the Flat boys that the other boys had been a little afraid of, lest they might get “fresh” with the girls from the town.

Sherrill had been wise in anticipating any such possibility by putting the whole thing on a somewhat formal basis. There had been written invitations, and when the company had all arrived there was a receiving line formed, the officers first, with their guests beside them, and then the committees came, chairman and members, each with his or her guest, and were introduced all along the line and took their places in the line to receive the rest.

It worked out nicely, everybody meeting quite formally and everybody shaking hands, stiffly, perhaps awkwardly, but still shaking hands and acting as if they were all on an equality.

Then the orchestra slipped out of line here and there and took their places in the corner by the piano, not far from the fireplace, and began to play, using some of the music they had practiced at the last social.

Like magic the line was formed, two men and two girls, two men and two girls.

“Who are they putting with the boy that Phil Riggs brought, the extra one he hadn’t told us about?” whispered Sherrill to Alan, as she stood just in front of him at the head of the line waiting for the signal to march.

“Oh, he’s going with Jim Cather. You know we didn’t have Jim down because he expected to have to go to Canada yesterday, but he didn’t go.”

“But did you tell the girls? Is the table set for two more?” asked Sherrill anxiously.

“Yes, that’s all right. They take Lola Cather’s two places, herself and her guest. She didn’t ask anyone, you know.”

“Why not? Isn’t she coming? I hadn’t heard.”

“No she took good care you shouldn’t hear, I guess. But her mother told me. She said—” He lowered his voice and stepped to one side so that the two guests who stood near should not hear. “She said she didn’t care to have Lola hobnobbing with the Flatters.”

“Why, the idea!” said Sherrill indignantly. “I thought she wanted Lola to be a missionary someday. I heard her talking about sending her somewhere for a course of religious training.”

“Yes, I asked her that,” said Alan amusedly, “but she said that was different. She said she didn’t care to have her mixed up with
“thaht clahss.”

Alan imitated Mrs. Cather’s tones so exactly that Sherrill had to giggle in spite of her indignation.

“The very idea!” she whispered. “Is she afraid Lola will elope with Buggy Whitlock?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her.” Alan grinned. “The poor soul. Doesn’t she know this isn’t a dance nor flirtation circle? Though, of course, Lola is feather brained, and she does like to flirt awfully well. But I should think if she is going as a missionary, it was about time she began to have a little discernment and self-control.”

“Well, I didn’t think anybody would confuse our work here with foolishness. Now isn’t that dreadful! It will get out why she didn’t come of course, and there will be other mothers that will get alarmed, perhaps. Although, they are all sensible except Mrs. Mason and Mrs. Sales. They are always afraid of anything unconventional. But I do hope it won’t get to the Flats. It will spoil everything we could do. The idea!”

“Yes, I thought so. She let Lola go with that tough set at the inn all summer, and I know for a fact they had petting parties and plenty of wine and cigarettes. Nice bunch they were for a prospective missionary to hobnob with.”

“Alan! Listen! We’ve got to pray a lot about this,” said Sherrill with her own brows drawn together thoughtfully, “and then just keep our gatherings strictly friendly and a rapid program, so there wouldn’t be a chance for any indiscreet intimacies. Isn’t it pitiful, Alan? We all went to school together, and nobody objected. We’ve had the same interests while we were children, and we’re supposed to be going to the same heaven, if we all get there! It isn’t as if we were introducing strangers in our midst either. It’s just pride! It’s pitiful! It’s unchristian!”

“I’ll say it is,” said Alan. “It’s a pity they can’t bring up their precious children so they have a little sense and can act like Christians, and yet not flirt with every fresh kid they meet.”

“Alan, you’ll look after things when I’m gone, so they won’t let any unwise things go on, won’t you? And you’ll pray—
hard
!”

“I sure will!” said the boy vehemently.

Then the music began, and the procession filed about the tables cheerfully, everybody intent on hunting place cards. It was Alan who asked the blessing, in the little hush that came as each stood behind a chair and wondered just what came next.

“Heavenly Father, we want to thank You for the good things that You have given us through the year, and we ask Your blessing on ourselves and our guests tonight, and these Your gifts that we are to share. May every one of us learn to know that the best gift You have given us is Yourself, and yield our lives to You that we may grow into perfection, even as the flowers of the field and the fruit of the earth is yielded. For Christ’s sake, we ask it. Amen.”

Something in Sherrill’s throat threatened to overwhelm her for an instant. It seemed as if Alan had touched the very springs of her life with that little prayer. How Alan was growing into the beautiful ways of a Christian! It made Sherrill very happy.

But a soft sound from the piano was filling the room, and the voices nearest the piano broke into song.

It was a double quartet, seated around the table nearest the piano, who were singing, and they had practiced it so well that every word was distinct and clear, like a prayer. They sang as they stood, heads bent a little, earnestly, and before the first line was finished the great room was hushed and listening. There was something about the singing that was most impressive, and in the hush that followed the last verse, Sherrill thought she heard a little sniff beside her, and glancing furtively at Mary Morse she saw her rough, bony hand lift up and surreptitiously flick a tear away from the side of her nose. Poor Mary was in a new world, and her heart was stirred deeply already.

Sherrill felt a throb of joy.

She cast her eyes quickly about, over the faces of the guests. Even Sam O’Reilly had a solemn, pleased look on his freckled face. They liked it.

The hush was broken by the scraping of chairs as they were shoved back for them all to be seated, and in the chatter that followed Sherrill could see that all the Flatters were smiling and settling into their places with pleased anticipation.

The table was very pretty, cheerful with bright pompon chrysanthemums and the late roses. The place cards had been painted by the social committee, and attached to them were tiny baskets filled with salted nuts. Plates of bright pink and green mints stood here and there, and at each place was a little glass of delicious fruit cup. Mrs. Barrington had made it, and taken as much pains with it as if it had been for a wedding. Sherrill felt a thrill at recognizing that. Dear Mrs. Barrington! She understood they wanted the Flatters to have everything just as nice as it would have been for the highest in the land.