II
The afternoon passed and still no letter from Trenton. Grace was glad that she had not told Irene how far Trenton had gone in declaring himself. Not even Irene should know how much she cared for Trenton. She indulged in the luxury of self-pity, picturing herself going through life with the remembrance of him like a wound in her heart that would never heal. And after summoning her courage to meet such a situation she was swept with a great tenderness as she thought of him, remembering the touch of his hand, his kiss on her lips.
When she called up her mother to say that she was bringing John home Mrs. Durland reminded her that this was the night Ethel had asked Mr. Haley to supper. Grace had been fully informed as to Mr. Haley’s acceptance of Ethel’s invitation but in her confused state of mind she had forgotten it. Haley was Ethel’s discovery and Grace had several times encountered him in the Durland parlor. Recently Ethel had been referring to the young man a little self-consciously by his first name. Osgood Haley was twenty-seven, a well appearing young man, who was a city salesman for a wholesale grocery firm. Mrs. Durland had satisfied herself by inquiries of an acquaintance in the town in which Haley had originated that he was of good family and he was thereupon made to feel at home in the Durland household.
Ethel had met him in her Sunday school where within a few weeks after taking a class of boys he had doubled its membership. It was his personality, Ethel said; and beyond question Haley had a great deal of personality. Among other items of Haley’s biography Ethel had acquainted the family with the fact that his interest in religion was due to the influence of a girl to whom he had been engaged but who died only a short time before the day appointed for their wedding. Ethel made a great deal of this. Haley’s devotion to the memory of the girl he had loved was very beautiful as Ethel described it, and Mrs. Durland said that such devotion was rare in these times.
Haley had brought to perfection a manner that not only had proved its efficacy in selling groceries but was equally impressive in the parlor. When he shook a hand he clung to it while he smiled into the face of its owner and uttered one of a number of cheerful remarks from a list with which he was fortified. These were applied with good judgment and went far toward convincing the person greeted that Mr. Haley was the possessor of some secret of happiness which he benevolently desired to communicate to all mankind.
Ethel having gone home early to prepare some special dishes for her guest, came in flushed from the kitchen just as Haley arrived with Grace and John, who had met him on the street-car. Mr. Durland had meekly submitted to investiture in a white shirt in honor of the occasion. He had confused Haley with a young man from Rangerton who sometimes visited the family. When he had been set straight on this point they went to the table where the talk opened promisingly.
Haley needed no encouragement to talk; he was a born talker. He was abundantly supplied with anecdotes, drawn from his experience as a salesman, which proved that a cheery and optimistic spirit will overcome all obstacles. John provoked him to renewed efforts by insisting that theoretically the position of the pessimist is sound. Haley would have none of this. He had found, he declared, that hope is infectious and he derived the liveliest satisfaction from his success in overcoming the prejudice and reluctance of difficult customers.
“You two boys make a splendid team,” remarked Mrs. Durland. “I suppose you don’t know many people here, John.”
“Only frat brothers and boys who’ve graduated from the University since I’ve been there. There’s quite a bunch of them, too, for I’ve been plugging around the sacred groves of academe a long time.”
“I suppose you’ll be so busy when you move to town you’ll have to limit your social life,” said Ethel. “But we all need outside interests. Osgood has been here a year but it was some time before he found just what he needed.”
Haley rose to this promptly by saying that being received in a home like the Durland’s was the pleasantest thing that had ever happened to him.
“Of course, John,” Ethel continued, “you will find a church connection helpful. I hope you will hear Dr. Ridgley before handing in your letter anywhere else.”
“By all means,” said Haley. “I tried several churches before I finally settled on Dr. Ridgley’s. He’s helped me over a lot of hard places just by a word or two. It just occurs to me, Ethel, that John,” (Haley was already calling Moore by his first name) “would enjoy Mr. Forman’s bible class. They’re all business and professional men and Mr. Forman is a thorough Bible student. If I didn’t enjoy my boys so much I’d certainly never miss a Sunday morning with Mr. Forman.”
“You see, John, we’re trying to fix everything up for you,” said Mrs. Durland, turning a sympathetic glance upon Moore.
Grace was unable to recall that she had ever heard John speak of churches, though in their walks about Bloomington he had discussed religion in general terms. She doubted whether, with his many engrossing employments, he had been a diligent church-goer.
“Don’t let them crowd you, John,” she said, seeing that he hesitated to commit himself.
“I’m not a church member,” he said diffidently. “I suppose I’m hardly what you’d call a believer; at least I don’t believe all you’re supposed to believe if you subscribe to a creed. I hope I’m not shocking you folks but it always seems to me there’s something stifling about a church. When I was a boy on the home farm and all the neighbors met at the country church every Sunday, I always hated to go in; it seemed a lot cheerfuller outside. I suppose if I got right down to it I’d say I believe in a great power that I haven’t any name for, that moves the world. It’s bigger than any church, and it works in all of us whether we go to church or not. I suppose if you got down to bed rock you’d call me an agnostic. But I’m strong for whatever any church does to help people live right. When it comes to believing a lot of things I can’t square with reason I just can’t do it.”
“That’s about my own idea,” ventured Mr. Durland, who had been bending over his plate with his usual stolid silence.
“We’re not so far apart, John,” said Mrs. Durland, anxious to avert the deliverance which she saw from the tense look in Ethel’s face was imminent. “We all see things differently these days and I think it better not to discuss the subject. It’s far too personal.”
“I don’t see how you can say such a thing, mother,” said Ethel, with painstaking enunciation. “I think it our solemn duty to discuss matters that affect our souls. If there ever comes a time when I can’t believe in God I want to die! I don’t see how any one can live without the hope of a better world than this. Without that nothing would be worth while.”
“Please don’t think I want to destroy any one’s faith,” John replied. “But for myself I try to keep tight hold of the idea that it’s a part of our job to make that better world right here. And if we do that and there is a better place after death I don’t believe anybody’s going to be kept out of it for not believing what he can’t.”
“John,” began Haley with a deprecatory smile, “that’s exactly where I used to stand! You don’t need to feel discouraged about your doubts. If we just will to believe we can overcome everything. That’s the truth, isn’t it, Ethel?”
Ethel promptly affirmed his statement, and Mrs. Durland softened the affirmation out of deference for John’s feelings.
“I think I agree with John,” said Grace; “I’d like to believe a lot of things the church teaches but I can’t; I’m always stumbling over some doubt.”
“I didn’t know you called yourself an agnostic,” said Ethel severely.
“I don’t know that it’s necessary to classify myself,” Grace replied coldly.
Haley volunteered to lend John certain books which he had found helpful in overcoming his own doubts. John listened attentively as Haley named them and replied that he had read them and when Mr. Durland asked John if he had read “The Age of Reason,” Mrs. Durland thwarted Ethel’s attempt to denounce that work by remarking that she thought they could all agree that every effort to promote peace and happiness in the world was worthy of encouragement.
“You’ve said something there, Mrs. Durland,” said John soberly. “I’m strong for that.”
“I guess that leaves us nothing to quarrel about after all,” said Haley, beaming with tolerance.
Ethel resented her mother’s interference with the religious discussion just when she was ready to sweep away all agnostic literature with a quotation. And she was displeased to find John again exchanging stories with Haley. She had counted much on the beneficent exercise of John’s influence on Grace after he settled in Indianapolis. Her father was hopeless where religion was concerned and she had no sympathy with her mother’s oft-reiterated opinion that there was something good in all churches. Her indignation increased as good cheer again prevailed at the table. She waited till a lull in the story-telling gave her an opportunity to ask John, with an air of the utmost guilelessness, the proportion of women to men in the University. John answered and called upon Grace to verify his figures. Grace, familiar with Ethel’s mental processes, groped for the motive behind the question. Her curiosity as to what her sister was driving at was quickly satisfied.
“I was just wondering, that’s all,” remarked Ethel carelessly. “I suppose I might have got the figures from the catalogue. Oh, by the way, John, Grace has spoken of so many of her friends in college I feel that I almost know them. Just the other day she was speaking of a Miss Conwell—Mabel, wasn’t it, Grace?—who must be a very interesting girl. She had her uncle look Grace up when he was here recently.”
“Conwell?” repeated John, looking inquiringly at Grace, who sat directly opposite him. “Do I know a Miss Conwell?” he asked and catching a hint from Grace’s eyes that something was amiss he added, “There’s such a lot of girls down there I get ’em all mixed up.”
“She’s from Jeffersonville, you said, didn’t you, Grace?” asked Ethel.
“Jeffersonville or New Albany,” Grace answered, “I’m always confusing those towns.”
John was now aware that Grace was telegraphing for help.
“Oh, yes;” he exclaimed, “I remember Miss Conwell. I’d got the name wrong; I thought it was Conway. I run into her occasionally at the library.”
“She doesn’t seem to be in the catalogue,” Ethel persisted, “but that may be because they don’t know where she comes from.”
Haley laughed boisterously at this. John, detecting a tinge of spite in Ethel’s pursuit of a matter that apparently was of no importance, answered that he thought Miss Conwell hadn’t taken up her work till after the fall term opened, which probably accounted for the absence of her name from the catalogue.
“She is a special, isn’t she, Grace?” he asked.
“Yes; in English,” Grace answered, with a defiant look at her sister.
“That’s the girl who’s related to Mr. Trenton?” asked Durland, vaguely conscious that Grace was under fire. “I thought that was the name. Trenton,” he explained to Moore, “is a famous engineer. I guess there’s nobody stands higher in his line.”
“He’s the husband of that Mary Graham Trenton who writes horrible books,” announced Ethel.
“That’s got nothing to do with Trenton’s standing as an engineer,” Durland replied doggedly.
“I guess no man has to stand for his wife’s opinions these days,” said John conciliatingly.
“Of course I don’t know what Mr. Trenton’s views are on the subjects his wife writes about,” said Ethel. “But Grace probably knows.”
“You couldn’t expect me to violate Mr. Trenton’s confidence,” Grace replied.
Fortunately the meal was concluded and Mrs. Durland rose from the table.
“I’m awfully sorry, John,” said Grace, when they reached the street. “There’s no reason why Ethel should show her spite at me when we have company. She thought with you there it would be easy to catch me in a lie. It was a nasty trick; but it was splendid of you to help me out.”
“You don’t need to thank me for that,” said John. “Ethel was sore at me for being a heathen and she thought she’d pot us both with one shot. And I guess she did,” he ended with a chuckle. “It would be easy for her to prove that there’s no Mabel Conwell at the University. But why make so much fuss about it?”
“It’s just her way of nosing into other people’s affairs. If she hadn’t been so nasty about Mr. Trenton in the first place I wouldn’t have had to lie.”
“It’s too bad Ethel’s got that spirit. It must be hard living with such a person.”
Irene was waiting for them when they reached the Pendennis. Grace noted that her friend wore her simplest gown and hat, perhaps as an outward sign of the chastened mood in which Kemp’s passing had left her. John sat between them and their enjoyment of the picture was enhanced by his droll comments.
“It’s me for the simple life,” said Irene at the end. “I’ll dream of myself as that girl in the sunbonnet going down the lane with the jug of buttermilk for the harvest hands.”
“The dream’s as near as you’ll ever come to it!” said Grace. “I can see you on a farm!”
“I’d be an ideal farmer’s wife, wouldn’t I, Mr. Moore? I’ve certainly got enough sense to feed the chickens.”
“When you weren’t doing that you could feed the mortgage,” John replied. “Let’s see, which one of you girls am I going to take home first?”
They went into a confectioner’s for a hot chocolate and to discuss this momentous question. Irene lived in the East End, much farther from the theatre than Grace. Grace insisted that if he took her home first she would think it because he wanted to spend more time with Irene.
“That would be perfectly satisfactory to me!” said Irene demurely.
“I don’t know that I’d hate it so much myself,” John replied.
“Do you ever use a taxi, Mr. Moore?” Irene asked.
“Not on the price of one Airedale!”
When he suggested seriously that the whole matter would be greatly simplified by taking a taxi Irene would not hear of it. She hadn’t meant to hint; she was just joking. They continued their teasing until they reached a corner where Grace settled the matter.
“Irene wins!” she cried and before they knew what she was about she boarded her car and was waving to them derisively from the platform.