Was it too late? And why was the thought of it knocking so persistently at the door of his plans for the day if it were not that it was for him to do, after all? Somehow he couldn’t put it aside—the remembrance of that forlorn and neglected community, up on the hills, so near and yet so far, where he had buried Sadie Dunstan, and to which he had always meant to return—some day. And that day had never come. Well, he had been incessantly busy—he could have done no more. Demands upon his time and strength had called him in every direction but—that. Yet probably he had been no more needed anywhere than there. Too bad, but it was most certainly too late now.
At seven his telephone rang. It was Red’s voice which hailed him:
“I just want to put myself at your disposal for the day as far as I can cut my work to do it. Jim Macauley says if you want his seven-passenger for any purpose whatever consider him yours to command. He thought you might want to pay some farewell visits or something, and would like to take a few people along. Plenty of candidates for the job—you’ll have to pick and choose. What time do I—face the music?”
“Just before church, Red—ten o’clock in the vestry room. I’ve called them all—they don’t know whom it is they’re to meet. About the car—thank you and Macauley. I want very much to go up on the hills, where Sue Dunstan came from, and hold a little open-air service this afternoon. I’m going to ask two of my boys to run up there and get as many people notified as possible.”
“Great Cæsar! That the way you’re going to spend your last hours? Why, Ellen is planning to open our house for all your friends and——”
“Thank her heartily for me, will you? And tell her that if she and you will go along with me up there I’ll like it much better than anything else she can do for me. I want to take Miss Ray, too, if I may.”
“Anything you say goes, of course. I told my wife I doubted if you’d stand for the reception idea, and I don’t blame you for not wanting it, but—I didn’t expect you’d want to do a stunt like that. All right—I’ll stand by. Sure you don’t want to preach to the crowd that’ll be at the station? Wonderful opportunity—better not miss it!”
“See you at ten o’clock, Red. Stop joking about this day of mine.”
“I’m not joking—I’m just whistling to keep my courage up. If you think this day is anything but deadly serious to me——”
“I know it is. Good-bye—Best Friend!” And Black hung up the receiver on those last words which he would hardly yet have ventured to speak if the two men had been face to face. But his heart was warm with a great love for Red this day—and a great reverent exultation over what was soon to happen. Why not speak the words that soon, call he ever so loudly, could not be heard, except by the hearing of the spirit?