Page 11 of The Right Knock


  CHAPTER IX.

  "Soul, receive into thyself the warm and radiant life of heaven, to breathe it out again as spiritual fragrance over other lives, and so change this wilderness-world into the garden of the Lord! This is the lovely moral which hides within the roses of June, and makes more than half their sweetness."--_Lucy Larcom._

  And Mrs. Hayden? The old expressions of joy seemed utterly inadequate todescribe her feelings. It seemed that she was veritably dreaming ofheaven, such a sense of largeness, of freedom, had come over her, somuch wider was her horizon, so much more clearly could she see andunderstand the hard questions that had always puzzled her, and yet shehad, as it were, just come to the edge of the beautiful flower-dotted,dew-besprinkled field that seemed spreading out before her. So longhopeless, so long hungry as she had been after this taste, she onlyhungered the more. Wonderingly she looked at herself walking aboutwithout pain; with an elastic step and the springing freshness ofhealth; wonderingly she remembered the dull, nervous throbbingheadaches, contrasted with the refreshing clearness, the joyous comfortand peace of mind which made thinking a tonic, and labor a luxury.

  What a glorious strength of exhiliration seemed flowing in to her withevery breath; how it expanded and thrilled her with its power! If thiswas life, what joy to live, to know and feel the gladness and beauty ofGod's beautiful world, and it must not be for her alone, but for allhungering, thirsting mankind. She must impart it to those who had beensuffering and helpless like herself. It was even now flowing into herown family. Although Miss Greening had given her but the first andfundamental principles of the method, she had in many instances alreadydemonstrated their worth and power. It soon grew to be a regular matterof course to treat every one in the family who seemed in need of aremedy for anything.

  Mr. Hayden had frequently come home with neuralgia in his face, butafter one or two attacks the unwelcome intruder vanished. The familymedicine case, which had recently been replenished for the winter, wasleft to its own devices, and dust gathered on the necks and shoulders ofthe cough remedies, paregoric and hive syrup bottles, until they wouldhave looked quite pitiful in their desertion, if anybody had seen them.Jamie's one attack of croup yielded more readily to his mother's silenttreatments than it ever had to hive syrup, and it was with a deepthankfulness, not unmixed with awe, that Mr. and Mrs. Hayden felt theirlittle one at last free from his old, dreaded enemy. Never before hadthe children been so free from colds or ailments common to childhood, asthis winter. Never before had there been such a seemingly recklesscarelessness in wrapping them up, keeping them out of the draughts, orletting them eat just what was on the table.

  "Why, it is like living in another world altogether," said Mr. Hayden,enthusiastically to one of the neighbors. "The children are so muchhappier, quieter, more peaceable. I tell you, it is like getting freefrom prison to come into this way of living, and my wife is gettingstronger all the time. Of course you want it," he continued. "Come oversome time, and we'll tell you more about it." Saying good night hewalked away, leaving his friend to wonder if the entire family had notturned lunatics.

  Enwrapped in the seamless robe of Truth, the sharp winds of worldlycriticism seldom reach us, because we are no longer susceptible to theirsharpness. A gentle mildness beams from every face, for beyond the veilof outward appearances we learn to discern the pure, perfect holiness ofGod's child--the divinity behind the bars. Not, however, till we knowhow to put on this wondrous robe are we invulnerable.

  Although Mrs. Hayden had learned much and lived much in these last fewmonths, there came a time, as the summer drew near, when it seemed thateverything was slipping away from her. Not her health, except that herold headache occasionally threatened her, but things did not seem asclear to her. Many problems were only in a partial state of solution,and a vague dissatisfaction, a helpless discouragement took possessionof her at times, very hard to bear, especially when contrasted with thelight she felt had so long guided her. Of late even her treatmentsseemed almost fruitless. Her old-time impatience had manifested itselfon several occasions, and one warm June morning she went about her workin a decidedly old-fashioned mood.

  It was Monday, and in addition to the washing to be seen to, the littleextra help to be rendered the girl, her husband had sent her a largecase of strawberries to be put up, manlike, forgetting that this day atleast was full. She was hastening to get them ready before the dinnerhour, and the "picking up" of the sitting-room, so essential Mondaymornings, had been left till a more convenient season.

  Mabel had gone to school, while Jamie and Fred were playing in the sandin the back yard.

  With her hands in the berries, and her thoughts busily engaged, she wassuddenly roused from her reverie by the noisy entrance of Fred, who justcame in for a drink of water. As he turned to go out, he threw his armsaround his mother's neck and gave her a boy's impetuous hug, and a kissthat ought to have rejoiced any mother's heart, but this morning itannoyed her. "Run away, now; mamma hasn't time this morning," and shepushed him impatiently away. Just then the door bell rang, and Fredsprang to answer it. In another moment he ushered into her presence ashabbily dressed, poor, miserable looking woman, who immediately askedfor a drink of water. "I can get it," said the ready Fred. While he wasgone, the woman began her request:

  "Plaze, Ma'am, would you be wantin' some garters to-day? They arewarranted by the very man as made 'em. My boy is layin' sick, and hisfather is dead, and all my health has been took away carin' for him, anda friend of mine, she has been in this business a long time, and saysit's very good some days, and she let me take her place to-day, so ifyou could take a pair or two to-day it would be very thankful I'd be,and I'm sure this boy would need a pair; they are only 25 cents, andwill just fit; ain't they nice, my boy?" She poured her story out, asthough there were no end to it, as she held up some brilliant red andblue elastics that quite dazzled Fred, who claimed them at once.

  "I have not time to examine and choose this morning, and Fred, you donot need them now," said Mrs. Hayden, with some annoyance in her tone.

  "Now, mamma, you didn't see my old ones, they ain't red and blue, norstretchy, an' my stockin's come down all the time. See how wrinkly theyare," and he held up a dusty little shoe with a sadly demoralizedstocking above it, rich in holes as well as wrinkles. The stocking hadbeen torn on a nail, he volubly explained. In his excitement Fred raisedhis voice, thus summoning Jamie to the scene with a rush that upset thedish of berries just picked over.

  "_I_ didn't mean to, and I can pick them up again," and he swept hisdirty little hands into the soft mushy pile, gathering berries, dust,stems or whatever happened to be in the way, dashing the miscellaneousmess into the clean berries that had escaped.

  "Jamie, you careless child! how can you be so naughty? Go and wash yourhands this minute! Fred, leave those things and stay out with Jamie, Ican not have you around when there is so much to do!" and with animpatient gesture she brushed Jamie aside and began sorting the berriesas best she could.

  Fred started toward her with the elastics, saying:

  "But, mamma, you haven't looked yet;"

  "Well, you see my hands are full, and I can tell you just as wellwithout looking."

  "You always tell me to do as I am told," pouted Fred as he reluctantlydeparted.

  Mrs. Hayden was ashamed and yet reckless with discouragement, andscarcely noticed the anxious pedlar, who stood waiting for some decisiveword from her.

  "I have no use for the supporters at present," she said at last. But asshe noticed the look of despair slowly settling on the woman's face, sheadded, "but, if you are in such distress, I will let you leave twopairs. Take the 50 cents lying there on the shelf," pointing to theplace. The woman was very grateful and soon went away with a brighterface.

  For a long time after she was gone, her picture remained in Mrs.Hayden's remorseful memory, though she put it away as much as possibleand went on with her work. Jamie and Fred had quarreled several times,but even in peace, the fires of wa
r were likely to burst out afresh, forit was always so when she felt this way.

  As Mrs. Hayden sat in her own room that evening, reviewing the events ofthe day, which seemed the culmination of many days, it seemed that theMarion Hayden who had been so happy these last few months, improving inhealth and strength and ability to live a more useful life, and theMarion Hayden who had so miserably disgraced herself to-day, were farapart--in fact irretrievably separated. Where, indeed, had gone herpower of self-control, her wisdom and tact in governing the children?Why had she so harshly told Fred to run away from her when the dearchild was only showing his affection according to his own nature? Suchan active, impulsive yet loving child must be wisely dealt with, and shehad often realized that with Fred, love must be the governing power, notforce. To give way as she had to-day would be to lose her influence overhim, not only because of repulsing the child himself, but because hiscritical eyes noticed every weakness and failure in her, to live up toher own code of morals laid down for him to follow.

  Her accusing conscience asked why she had not questioned and tried tohelp that poor woman who, with all her ignorance, was doing the best shecould, to solve life's problem.

  After all, what had she, Marion Hayden, to offer the world while she hadnot yet conquered herself?

  Oh, the bitterness of regret, the repining for wasted moments and lostopportunities! but here she was in her old groove of thought. Could shenot try the new way, now that she so sorely needed it?

  She would try; she would begin to look on the other side of thesequestions. She _would_ regain her footing in spite of her humiliatingdownfall, although there might still be a lingering sense of shame overher defeat.

  Later, her husband came home. He tossed her a paper saying: "Here issomething that will clear you up. Read it aloud. I just glanced over it,and found it very good." He threw himself upon the sofa, waiting forher to begin. Mechanically she took up the paper.

  "'The Ubiquity of Good;' is this the article?"

  "Yes, there are several just as strong as that one."

  "Oh, I see; yes--I can hardly wait to read aloud," she exclaimed,running her eyes over the pages, instantly imbibing the spirit of thewriter. She began with an awakening interest which increased till shewas fairly electrified with delight.

  Her husband looked at her in astonishment although it had much the sameeffect on him. "I thought you needed something like that;" he said,sitting bolt upright and looking at her. "You see, Marion, if you couldonly be as enthusiastic all the time as that woman is, you could do theworks that she does, and be as positive too."

  "I know it, and if I understood as well as she does, it would bedifferent, but I know so little comparatively. Oh, if I could takelessons of the teacher she had--just listen, she says: 'I have just hadthe privilege of going through a class in metaphysics taught by one whois conceded to be the best teacher in the world,' but," continued Mrs.Hayden, "I've looked all over the paper and can't find the name of theteacher; queer, isn't it? Mayn't I subscribe for this paper, John, and Iwill ask her who this teacher is, when I send the subscription?"

  "Well, yes, I think if you could get the benefit from every number youhave from that, it would be money well invested," replied Mr. Hayden. Infact he was as much interested in this subject as she, and desired herto "go to the bottom of it," as he expressed it.

  That night she retired with a new hope. If others could learn anddemonstrate and keep, why could not she?

 
Helen Van-Anderson's Novels