This was a Thursday evening. The church bells were droning idly in the soft summer dusk. Having heard young Nathan climb sobbing into his creaking bed (while other boys were still playing “Duck on the Rock” out under the Adams Street arc light) Johnathan Forge went to prayer meeting. There he made his ten-minute weekly testimony about how precious Jesus had been to his soul since the previous Thursday and how he—Johnathan—prayed in all things to be guided by the Father’s loving care.
CHAPTER VII
EXQUISITE THINGS
I
Mrs. Gracia Theddon, writing in her upstairs library the Saturday morning after her visit to the Orphanage, was disturbed by one Murfins, her butler. Murfins merely thrust in his head, being florid and coatless from directing the cleaning of near-by rooms.
“The small girl you spoke of Tuesday is here, ma’am,” was his simple way of announcing news to transcend all future events in Gracia Theddon’s life.
The woman arose, gripping her chair-back with one hand, the other quieting her heart.
“Bring her up, Murfins,” she directed huskily.
It was a new rôle for Mrs. Theddon, that of mother. Capable of directing as brilliant a social galaxy as the annual Charity Ball, she waited unnerved for the advent of a tiny, dark-eyed stranger.
Three minutes later the foster-mother beheld her new child come down the room.