Treasured Brides Collection (20 page)

“Oh, Jesus Christ, if You are able to make anything out of me with all my faults, won’t You please take me and do it? I don’t see how You can, but I believe You can do it if You say so, and I do want to be faultless. I would like to be a witness for You, if You think You ever could make me fit.”

When the terrible thunder began to roll over the town, and the lightning flashes lit up the darkest corners of rooms, and the rain dashed in sheets against the windows, Euphemia lay sweetly sleeping on her pillow with a smile of trust on her young lips.

She came downstairs the next morning with a light of anticipation in her eyes. She was actually looking for God to answer her prayer.

T
here were two surprises in the Martin home that morning. The first occurred when Lawrence Earle drove up to the door in his car and inquired of Johnnie whether his sister had recovered from yesterday and if he might see her a moment. It’s true that he spoke a name, one that sounded strangely to Johnnie—Euphemia—but he supposed Eleanor was meant, of course. Who but Eleanor was ever inquired for by a young man? Margaret, the eldest sister, was married and in a faraway Western home. Eleanor was the one to be called upon now. And naturally, Eleanor would be supposed to be recovering from her ride of the day before. Indeed, she had just arisen and was taking a belated breakfast at that moment by herself in the pantry. Johnnie, like the usual small boy, knew all his sister’s comings and goings, and he was aware that this young man had been asked to join the ride the day before, also that Eleanor was much interested in him.

The living room was in charming order. This was owing to the careful thought that Effie had bestowed upon that clause, “whatsoever things are lovely,” the night before. Effie began to see that there were a great many things which might be lovely and that it was this clause in which she seemed to be most lacking.

Johnnie, having seated the guest, hastened to the kitchen in search of Eleanor.

“Say, Nell, where are you?” he called. “Come out o’ there. There’s a man in the sitting room to see you—that Earle fellow. He wants to know if you’ve recovered yet from your pleasure excursion, and I expect he wants you to go and ride. He’s got his car, so you’d better get your clothes on. You look like last week’s milkshake in that rig.”

Then Johnnie put his hands in his pockets and, having done his duty, whistled himself out of the kitchen door before his sister had recovered from her astonishment enough to ask him any questions. She quickly laid down the piece of apple pie she was eating and slipped up the back stairs to follow Johnnie’s advice, pondering all the while why Lawrence Earle had come to see her. And planning what a delightful time she would have riding with him, the envy of all the other girls. She decided that he had probably come to make his excuses for not going with them yesterday. But why had he come to her, instead of to those other girls who had sent out the invitations? She was in a flutter of excitement and tossed over her boxes and drawers for a certain string of beads she wanted to wear. Euphemia, in the next room, was getting the baby to sleep and singing softly. The words floated through the half-open door occasionally and down through the hall to the waiting visitor.

He smiled to himself as he listened, and thought,
If that is Euphemia, and I think I know her voice, she did not need that I should guide her to Him, for she evidently knows Him already. Perhaps she has caught the secret
.

Then Eleanor came down the stairs, smiling and fresh. Eleanor was very pretty, and she was graciousness itself now. She was pleased to have him call. It was kind of him, and they had been so disappointed yesterday. Earle seemed a little surprised, but he was courteous. He asked about the ride and said it had been a perfect day, but other plans had prevented his going. He did not, as Eleanor expected, ask her to ride, though she was arranged in the prettiest of garments. Instead, after a few words about the weather, the roads, and the town in general, he told her she had changed a lot, that he shouldn’t have known her, and then he asked if he might see her sister, Euphemia. For a moment Eleanor was puzzled. She was just about to say she had not a sister, Euphemia, when it dawned upon her whom he meant. And she said, “Oh, Effie? Why, yes, I think the child is around somewhere. You never can tell where to find Effie. I’ll go and see if she’s been heard from lately.” And she left the room bewildered. What in the world did he want with Effie? Had she been getting into some sort of a scrape and had he come to find out what she knew of it? Her face burned with shame over the thought.

Effie’s low-voiced singing over the baby, as she laid him carefully on Mother’s bed in the darkened room, caught her sister’s ear, and she hastened to summon her.

Effie had discovered that virtue brings its own reward to a certain degree, and was feeling real pleasure in the work she had accomplished, as she softly covered the baby with Mother’s white shawl and tiptoed out of the room. She was startled to find her sister, Eleanor, standing in the hall, frowning at her. “For pity’s sake, Effie!” was her greeting. “What a fright you are! Go and brush your hair and put on something decent. Lawrence Earle is downstairs and wants to see you. He wants to know ‘if you have recovered from yesterday.’ What in the world does he mean? Have you been getting into some scrape, and has he come here to let us know it, asking after you in a very polite way not to hurt our feelings? I just know you have.”

But she found herself talking to the empty hall, for Effie, her face lighted up with pleasure that her new friend had come, flew down the stairs without waiting for brush or collar or any adornment, and never paused till she stood in the doorway and realized her untidy working dress.

Eleanor, too vexed to know what to do, followed her sister downstairs, thinking to apologize for her carelessness, and find out, if possible, what was the matter. The busy mother passed through the hall at that moment, and they all met at the door, just as Lawrence Earle was saying cheerfully, “Good morning, Euphemia. How are you? Not all in after yesterday? Well you are some sport!”

Eleanor wondered with disgust if Lawrence Earle supposed Effie was one of the crowd and had perhaps been the one to invite him yesterday. Likely he had gotten them confused, and she must set him straight at once before Effie got her head turned.

But the young man went on speaking.

“How about it? Do you feel like having a few minutes’ exercise? I brought a baseball over. I’d like to see how my old pupil has progressed. Can you spare her, Mrs. Martin? Or is this a busy time, and should I wait till afternoon?”

“Why no, of course not, go ahead, dear,” responded her mother, heartily glad that some real fun had come to her usually unwelcome daughter.

Effie flew upstairs to make a few changes in her apparel.

“You have a wonderful daughter,” said Lawrence Earle earnestly, looking from Mrs. Martin to Eleanor. “You certainly would have been proud of her yesterday. Not a girl in a thousand could have done what she did!” And then he turned as Euphemia, her eyes bright with pleasure, came flying back downstairs in a clean blouse, which she had hastily donned on the fly, as it were, and they went laughing off together into the yard.

“What does he mean, Mother?” asked Eleanor in an offended tone. “What on earth has Effie been doing now?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” said her mother, watching them with half-perplexed pleasure. “He isn’t spoiled a bit, is he? I was afraid he might have changed, with all the adulation he has had.”

“I’m sure I don’t see how you can tell he isn’t spoiled,” said Eleanor discontentedly. “I don’t think he’s very polite, to say the least. He might have asked me to play, too. I’m the oldest daughter.”

“Great cats!” said Johnnie, who had come into the dining room door and was listening. “Nell, you never could throw a ball, nor catch it neither. Wouldn’t you make a great figure out there pitching ball!”

“Why, I thought you scorned ball-playing, Eleanor,” said her mother, innocently surprised. “I don’t suppose it occurred to him that you would care to play.”

“Well, I wouldn’t!” snapped Eleanor shortly. “I was only saying how impolite he was. The idea of his coming over here and making Effie a laughingstock in her own yard. I shouldn’t think you’d allow it, Mother! I should think you’d put a stop to it before anybody sees her! I’m ashamed to have the girls know my sister acts that way.”

“I don’t see what you mean, Eleanor. Your sister is not behaving in any unseemly way, and as far as I can see, she is very graceful in her movements. That little blouse she made out of your old white dress fits her very nicely.”

“No, you never can see any harm in anything Effie does,” said Eleanor. “You don’t care how much humiliation I have to bear on her account. That’s nothing to you.”

“Aw, shucks!” said Johnnie, watching out the window. “If you could sling a mean ball like that, you’d be out there, too; you know you would. You’re just jealous, that’s what you are, Nell!”

“Johnnie! You mustn’t speak that way to your sister!”

“Well! She is!” said Johnnie, vanishing out the back door to slump down in the grass by the edge of the ball space and watch the game, ready to run after the ball if it should elude the skillful catcher’s hand.

Eleanor went discontentedly upstairs to watch the performance from her curtained window, but she managed to be sitting down on the porch when the two finally finished their play and came sauntering toward the house.

Mrs. Martin came through the hall with her arms full of clean laundry, which she was about to carry upstairs as they came up the steps.

“I’ll carry that for you, Mother,” said Euphemia, with new thoughtfulness, springing up the steps. “You don’t mind if I go for a ride, do you?”

Eleanor made eager talk while the visitor waited for her sister to come down, hoping that she would be asked to go along, and resolving to put Effie in her place if she did. The very idea of Effie’s usurping the best new young man in town!

But Lawrence Earle did not ask Eleanor to accompany them, though he was as pleasant as possible while he waited. And as he left, he said to Mrs. Martin, “You won’t worry if I keep her out late this afternoon, will you? I’ve promised to show her a new road that she’s never seen, and Mother told me to bring her back with me to lunch. I think I demonstrated my ability to take care of her yesterday, didn’t I?”And he touched his hat and went away laughing, as if they understood.

Euphemia’s cheeks glowed as she looked back at her mother and sister, but she said nothing, and Mrs. Martin stood looking after them, wondering.

“Something very nice must have happened yesterday, or something rather”—she paused for a word—“dangerous, perhaps.” Her eyes took on an anxious look.

“Nonsense!” said Eleanor sharply. “Something disgraceful, I’ll bet. That girl can stir up more trouble in a given time than anybody I know. I bet she just did this for spite, whatever it was, because she wasn’t allowed to go on that picnic. I might have known, when she came around so softly sweet and asked Papa not to forbid my going, that she had something up her sleeve. I declare, Mamma, I think it’s terrible the way you let Effie disgrace us all!”

There were tears of vexation in Eleanor’s eyes. She stood gloomily beside the window, looking after them and drumming on the sill. “Mamma,” she said, as her mother passed again through the room. “Do you think it’s quite safe to allow such a child as Effie to go off with strange young men? You know Lawrence Earle has been at college, and you never can tell how boys change when they go away from home.”

The mother gave her a look of astonishment. “Why, Eleanor, daughter, what can you be thinking of! Lawrence Earle is one of the finest young men I know. It seems to me, you were very anxious just yesterday to go off with him yourself. I’m afraid if you would examine your heart, you would really find something like jealousy there.”

The mother passed on, and Eleanor went glumly upstairs to settle down to a novel.

She was presently roused, however, to answer the bell. And this time a handsome car driven by a liveried chauffeur was drawn up in front of the house, and a gentleman, holding by the hand a lovely little child, entered and asked for Miss Euphemia Martin. He seemed much disappointed that she was not at home and asked after her health most solicitously. Could he see her father or mother? When Mrs. Martin was summoned from the kitchen, accompanied by the ever-wakeful baby, he overwhelmed her with words of gratitude for her daughter’s prompt and brave action, which had saved the life of his child. He was anxious to know if he had Euphemia’s full name written correctly. He said the little boy had a small gift, a slight token of the gratitude they felt. He had telephoned into the city for it late the night before and had it marked with the name the people who were standing about on the road had given him, so he hoped it was correct. The gift had come by special delivery that morning. And at a sign from his father, the beautiful baby presented to the mother a small white box, carefully wrapped and tied with white ribbon.

Mrs. Martin took the little white package and looked at it curiously, bewildered.

“But I don’t understand,” she said. “I don’t know of anything that my daughter, Euphemia, has done to merit any thanks. There must be some mistake. Perhaps it is another Miss Martin you mean.”

“Oh no,” the gentleman said, “the grocer’s boy directed me here. He said he knew the young lady quite well, and that she was very brave and fearless.”