Where Two Ways Met (17 page)

Paige would so much rather have been by himself to think out things and go over yesterday’s experiences, but it seemed that he was in a world just now, whether rightly or wrongly he was not sure, where he had to do what someone else wanted rather than order his life as he would choose. He thought longingly of that bit of a poem now residing in his vest pocket. He would so much have liked to be able to recall it. But that had to wait its time, too.

So it was no private talk of criticism or new orderings that this luncheon had been planned for, he presently discovered, but a social mingling to introduce him to other well-known businessmen.

Why? How could that sort of thing make him be of more value to his boss?

When the little company around the lunch table broke up and the various ones said good-bye and hurried away to their respective offices, Chalmers lingered a few minutes, talking about the club, telling how advantageous it was to any man to belong to it, mentioning various reasons why every young man should belong to a club, and finally ending up by suggesting that he would be glad to propose Paige’s name, if he was agreeable.

The question was so unexpected that Paige scarcely knew what to say. Was this something he ought to think about and perhaps ask his new Guide? And yet, as long as he was staying with his job and his boss seemed to want this, perhaps he ought to accede to it. Meantime, the boss awaited an answer.

“Why, that sounds very pleasant and is most kind of you. But—it is something I haven’t ever thought about before. May I think it over for a day or two?”

Chalmers gave him a quick stare. He had expected his man to be flattered and pleased and accept with alacrity, and here he wanted to think it over. Or was this a bit of lofty pose? He couldn’t quite make up his mind.

The boss was a bit mortified perhaps, much as his daughter had been, that the younger man didn’t immediately bow down to him, but he answered quite indifferently.

“Oh, all right. I just mentioned it because I thought it would be good for a young businessman to have some such contacts. It’s a very conservative place, and quite respectable.”

“Oh, of course. I know its reputation. I was only wondering if I would have the time to come to places like this.”

“Nonsense!” said the other man. “Of course you’ll have time. And I might often want to ask you to bring one of our customers here for lunch. There couldn’t be a better place to take them—good food, and a fine class of people always come here. It makes a good impression to take a customer to a place like this.”

“Yes, I see,” said Paige, “and of course if it’s a matter of taking your customers somewhere, I’ll be very glad if you’ll help to make it possible.”

Mr. Chalmers’s face brightened. For in truth, he had had two reasons for urging this. One was connected with his business as he suggested; the other was at the instigation of his daughter, who had implored him to do something about that new man of his to make him better company. “He’s a perfect stick, Dad! I don’t see how he can be any help in the business world if he can’t get on with young people,” she had said. And to that end, he had taken Paige to the University Club.

“Very well, Madison, I’ll put your name in at once.”

Some other businessmen came in then, one a very distinguished man with an international reputation, and Paige found himself being introduced to him and having a few words of very pleasant conversation.

When they finally went together back to the office, Mr. Chalmers said eagerly, “You see, Madison, that’s the kind of a place it is, where you meet great men from all over the world, and make contacts that do you no end of good when you get down to business.”

Yes, Paige could see, and felt that he had certainly done the right thing to consent to have an entrée into a place like that.

On the way home he found himself wondering how the Shambleys were getting on and decided that he would drive out there and find out before night. If Shambley was better, it was about time to do something about getting him a job. Perhaps he had better stop at the house and call up the doctor before going out there. He didn’t want to rush things too much and have the man break down right at the start.

Then he reviewed the morning hours and recalled to his mind the look on his boss’s face when he got the news of payment instead of foreclosure, and felt again that Chalmers had been disappointed at the outcome. Queer that Chalmers should feel that way. Of course he must be mistaken. There wouldn’t be any reason why Chalmers should
want
to foreclose. Not unless he owned the house himself! H’m! Perhaps that was it!

He was thinking about this when he noticed one of the men from the office waiting on the corner for a bus, and knowing the man went his way for some little distance, Paige stopped and invited him to ride.

The invitation was accepted with alacrity, and they soon fell to talking.

“Well,” said Grainger, “you’ve been off up Boston way. Pleasant time of year to take a trip like that. How’dya make out? Foreclose everything?”

Paige smiled.

“No, not all of them. A couple of them paid up.”

“You don’t say! Not that Washburn case, I hope. Because that’s practically sold to another party at a stupendous price. Houses are scarce these days, you know, and the day you left, Chalmers called me in and had me write to a party who works with him a good deal, and got the deal all fixed up. Chalmers was going to make a pretty penny on that deal.”

Paige looked at him, astonished.

“That’s a bit strange,” he said speculatively. “He didn’t tell me.”

“No, he wouldn’t likely. He keeps his own counsel, that man. But stop, here’s my corner! Thanks for the lift.” And Grainger was gone. But Paige had something more to think about, and now he was sure he understood the black look that met him when he first told of his dealings in the Washburn case.

Well, here was another angle to be considered. What would God have him do? Before he went to that funeral, he would not have thought of asking himself that question.

How he wished that June was at home and that he might talk it all over with her. Was this new life going to involve more perplexities than he was willing to undertake?

Then he got out the little poem she had sent and read it over, perhaps really taking it in for the first time:

Would he ever get to that place, ever have a faith like that, on which he could rest and inward conflicts would cease?

Paige drove home and learned that his mother was still at the church at some committee meeting that was lasting overlong. So he called the doctor and found that the Shambley invalids were improving rapidly. The little girl was able to sit up, and the father had been out walking every day for the last two days. The doctor saw no reason why he should not take an easy job, preferably an outdoor one.

Then Mother Madison came bustling apologetically in, announcing that dinner would be ready in fifteen minutes. Paige went upstairs to freshen up for the evening. He would find out from his mother more about the Shambleys before he went out to see them.

He snatched a minute or two before he went downstairs to read that little letter from June again, and went down in answer to the dinner bell with a pleasant look on his face, which his anxious mother observed and rejoiced over.

“And how about the Shambleys, Mother?” he asked. “Have you seen them lately?”

“Yes, I was up there this morning. They seem to be getting on all right, only Nannie is brokenhearted that her beloved teacher has gone away.”

“Of course,” said Paige in a tone of sympathy. “By the way, Mother, do you have any idea when she is coming back?”

“Why no, her mother seemed to think it might be some time, as she has to stay there till her cousin is discharged from the army. She’s a WAC or a WAVE or something.”

“I see. Well, I wonder if you can find out her address for me? She wrote me a note saying she was called away, but she failed to give me any address to reply, and I want to thank her for a poem she sent that I had asked for.”

“Why of course I can get it for you,” said the mother comfortably. She did her best to keep the satisfaction out of her voice. It certainly was nice that Paige wanted to write to a girl like June.

After dinner Paige took a quick drive up to the Shambleys’s and found to his joy that Mr. Shambley was working in his own garden. He looked up with a smile to greet his benefactor.

“Well, sir, I got me a job. Whaddaya know about that?” he said. “I start to work a-Monday, down at the filling station, and it’s good pay, too. I think I can begin ta pay ye back pretty soon.”

“Don’t worry about that,” said Paige. “I’m glad you’ve got a job. Are you sure you ought to begin so soon?”

“Yes, the doctor said it was all right.” His face fairly shone with new joy and vigor.

Paige talked cheerily with his protégé for a few minutes, took a brief glimpse of the little girl sitting up in her invalid chair by the window, talked a few minutes with the sad little mother, her face now wreathed with smiles, whistled for the boy and asked a few questions about the duties he had left for him to do when he went away, slipped him a silver dollar for any errands he might have to go on, and then hurried home. What he wanted to do now was to write to June. Going to the Shambleys’s had made him doubly anxious to talk to her.

But as he turned in at the drive, he saw the Chalmerses’ car drawing up in front of the house. He hurried to park his own car and lock the garage door. He wanted to get upstairs before anybody saw him, so that he wouldn’t be interrupted. He made a dash for the back door, stole softly into the kitchen, and slid up the back stairs cautiously. But as he passed silently across the top of the front stairs, he heard a voice and a laugh that filled him with disgust. That false laugh! And what had she come here for? Was it a message from her father? In which case he would have to see her, of course. Or was it some of her own fool nonsense? In which case he would lie low and not see her.

And then he remembered his resolve on his journey homeward, to be a little more friendly with his employer’s daughter. Perhaps he owed that to her, since Chalmers had gone out of his way to be nice to him that day.

However, he would at least wait until he was called.

So he stole into his own room and lay down on the bed silently in the dark, while the false laugh and chatter went gaily on below stairs. He found himself wondering what his mother thought of Reva Chalmers.

J
une arrived at Aunt Letitia’s in the middle of the afternoon and was eagerly welcomed. She found her aunt very comfortable, with a fine nurse, two maids in the kitchen, and her uncle hovering here and there trying his best to carry out the orders of his wife.

She went up to her room, and while she was removing her hat and coat, she looked around the immaculate room, telling herself indignantly that there hadn’t been any reason at all for sending for her. She understood all too well that she was supposed to be a kind of an overboss to see that the other servants did their work properly. She had all-too-definite memories of the last time she had spent a week in this house and how she was cross-examined every hour or two to find out if she had nagged every servant about the corners being dusted and a thousand other little things that were not really so important when the lady of the house was laid aside.

But June told herself this was not profitable thinking in which to indulge. She was a Christian girl and she had come to do a kindness to a fussy old woman who was unnecessarily particular, but as long as she felt she must do it, it must be done in a Christian way, and not with grudging.

So she hurried down to visit with her aunt and to go over with her the things she wanted done.

Pencil and pad were ready on the little table by her aunt’s bed, and she went quickly to work.

“Now the first things in the morning are important to start the day well. I always insist on having the front porch and the front walk swept down the first thing, before anybody goes by to criticize. Thomas usually does that, but now for sometime he has been off in the armed forces, so of course Betsey has had to take over, and it will be one of your first duties to see that it is not forgotten. And you mustn’t neglect to speak sharply whenever one of the servants forgets or omits a duty. You will find that is always the best policy. Never be lenient. It doesn’t pay.”

June dutifully wrote down these orders, but her gentle lips drew tight in an uncontrollable effort not to look angry,

“Jane will do the cooking, including making the coffee, which I find has to be watched, for she always insists on letting it perk too long, and the coffee is utterly ruined. You will have to watch that, for no amount of telling does any good, and your uncle is apt to take Jane’s part. He hates to have the coffee sent back to be made over.

“Betsey will wait at table and help Jane with the dishes, and she knows about when the napkins should be changed but doesn’t always do it, and so you will have to be vigilant about watching that. And in that little pile of papers on the table beside you, you will find the list showing when certain duties are done. Washing on Monday, of course; ironing on Tuesday; cleaning silver and brass on Wednesday; sweeping on Thursday; baking on Friday. Washing smeary windows whenever they need it. You will have to go around and investigate where it is needed, for I never saw a servant yet that wouldn’t slip by a duty when she could. And of course you must watch the dust in the corners and under bureaus and beds, or they will look as if the very pigs lived here.”

June wrote on, down the long list of trivial household duties, things her own mother had taught her when she was a child. Yet Mother never had made a burden of them. June wondered again as she had wondered before how an intelligent woman could make so much of such trifles, and worry so, lest each fraction of an operation was not performed in its exact ordered time, even during her own illness.