“Now you two children take each other off somewhere, and compare notes on these past months since you met,” ordered Miss Braithwaite. “I suspect you want to see each other, and I know that I want to talk to Mr. Lucas, now that he has delivered himself into my hands!”
“She doesn’t realize how little I really know you,” Cis said apologetically, as she led Jeanette to her own room.
“Neither do I!” retorted Jeanette. “I think we agreed that circumstances had made us friends beyond common measures of time and opportunity. May I speak like an old friend? May I call you Cis; will you call me Jeanette? That’s right! You have changed a great deal, Cis; you are wonderfully changed. So am I, but not for the better, like you. My uncle has told me what you have done. My dear, my dear, I am proud of you, and ashamed of me! You have been brave, faithful, and you are not whining! I’ve been bitter, awfully, horribly bitter, Cis! I hope it’s better now. I’ve been feeling that it wasn’t fair, what happened to me. I suspect it hurt my pride. I felt insulted, dragged down, as if God had dealt unfairly with me.”
“Oh, my, no!” cried Cis. “God doesn’t deal unfairly; why would He? You wouldn’t. But any girl would feel insulted in your place; it’s a shame! I thought so then, and I’ve been thinking so ever since. But it wasn’t God’s fault, you know. Don’t you suppose God saved you from worse sorrow?”
“Yes, I do! He sent you, true-hearted and courageous, to interfere for me!” cried Jeanette. “Cis, I’ve blessed you before every shrine I visited in Europe and here!”
“Then it’s likely that you saved me in your turn, Jeanette. I might easily have slipped my cable; likely you helped me hold,” said Cis simply.
“Do you know what you have done, Cicely of the burnished hair? You have impressed my uncle Wilmer by your action, coming as it did on top of my great father’s choice of the Old Church, Miss Braithwaite, and other people and things. He is looking into the Church; he never would before! He told me he was going to satisfy himself just what this strange power rested upon that made ordinary people martyrs and saints! He is a prejudiced, strong-willed man, Cis, but he is an honest one, and you know what happens when honest people begin this study. Your hand set this in motion, Cicely Adair!” cried Jeanette.
Cis looked up, then she looked down, for tears stood in her eyes.
“Would you really call it my hand?” she asked.
“Ah, well, the nails which hold the wall together do not drive themselves,” said Jeanette. “Cis, do you remember Mr. Singer, of the telephone office at home? I saw him lately; he asked about you. He told me that, although he was forced to dismiss you from the office for what you did, because it was a flagrant break of their rules, still he admired you exceedingly for it, as well as for your qualities as he knew them. He said that they were making a department of welfare work for their employees, and that he knew no one whom he would so well like to have over it as you. He said that if I came in contact with you he should be grateful if I would tell you this, and ask you to communicate with him. He said that he wanted a girl of high character, integrity, kindness, and someone able to entertain and attract the girls whom she looked after; he added that you were the one above all others whom he had in mind. So I’m handing on the message, in spite of disloyalty to Uncle Wilmer! You can think it over. At least your dismissal, Cicely, is thus squared off! Mr. Singer did not betray that he knew it was I who was involved in your violation of the rule of the company, but I’m sure that he did. Do you want to come home again, Cis? It’s good for you to be here, but I’m selfish enough to wish you were at home again.”