By the Way of the Silverthorns

  “Oh, yes?” said Curlin with a rising inflection and that aloof, diffident expression he had been wearing lately. “Well, that’s nice. But you know you’ve had a lot of guests lately.”

  “Oh!” said McRae with a puzzled frown. “Why, I thought you liked Paul.”

  “Oh, sure, I like him fine!” said Curlin. “I think he’s great! But somehow it’s not just us any more the way it used to be, you know. I think Steve feels that. Oh, of course he likes Paul, too, and Carey. Steve falls for any girl right off the bat. But still, it isn’t just the same you know, McRae.”

  McRae gave him a sudden, startled look.

  “Don’t you like Carey, Curlin? Is that what’s the matter? Or doesn’t Steve like her?”

  “Oh, sure, we both like her all right. I guess Link likes her a lot too, doesn’t he? Only somehow we are sort of out of things. Paul comes along with his limousine, and wants you in the front seat with him, and Link and Carey pile in behind, and if Steve and I go it just breaks up the game. Don’t be silly, McRae! It’s just life, that’s all. We’re perfectly good friends of course, and ready to help in any free-for-all where more are required, so don’t’ you worry about us. And as for Steve, I think he’s coming around all right, so you don’t need to worry about that any more either. But say, McRae, I’ve got to hurry. I’ve got a little new calf that needs to be fed. Good night! Don’t you think a thing about it all any more. Just go ahead and have a happy time! So long!” And he was gone!

  McRae stood for a moment or two on the porch alone watching Curlin’s long legs stride across lots toward the old Grant barn, sudden tears smarting to her eyes, her hair blowing wildly about her face, a strange goneness coming over her. Was it in her heart or her stomach? And what made it? Curlin really hadn’t said anything disturbing. It was just his attitude, his whole make-up, tone of voice, and aloofness. It wasn’t like Curlin.

  Was it Steve after all, in spite of what Curlin had said? Was he worried about Steve and didn’t want her to know it?

  She watched him disappear across the grayness of the pasture lot, his tall figure quickly growing into a dim shadow, and then one with the blackness. She sighed as she turned back toward the lighted door, with trouble in her eyes. It wasn’t in the least like Curlin to act this way. Something surely was wrong.

  But now she saw that Paul Redfern was coming out, and Carey trailing him.

  “Where in the world are you, McRae?” called Paul. “Come on in and play for us. Link and I want to sing that trio Carey brought out, and she can’t play it and sing too.”

  McRae drew a deep breath and snapped back into the picture.

  “All right,” she said pleasantly, with her mind still on the quality of Curlin’s tone when he had said good-bye, “but I think Carey can play as well as I can, and better, for she know it. However, here goes!” and she sat down at the piano and slid her fingers into the chords.

  And out in the dark pasture across the meadow Curlin slackened his steps, and turning stood and watched the house hungrily. He saw Paul come to the door with the bright hall light back of him, saw Rae Silverthorn turn at his call and walk side by side with him into the house. He drew a deep breath of a sigh and went slowly on. What did it all mean anyway, this life? Must one always give up the things that were dear in order that someone who seemed to have everything worth while should have one more? Almost since babyhood he had grown used to having to give up things for Steve. His mother had so ordered it when he was small. She wanted to teach him to be a man and a gentleman, and unselfish one. But the habit had grown with the years, and he had somehow come to feel that if there was anything that Steve very much desired he, Curlin, must not wish for it himself. Steve must have it if he wanted it.

  And now as he plodded slowly across the wetness of the dark pasture toward the little new calf that was not doing so well, he began wondering about Steve.

  For long years as they were growing up, it had been Steve who had trailed along with McRae when he and Link went anywhere. He had grown up feeling that McRae was Steve’s companion.

  Had it been possible that his care in ways leaving McRae to his brother’s escort had helped to spoil Steve? Had made him feel that everything would always be easy for him? That others would step aside and let him gather all the brightness of life for his own—if he wanted it? Had it made McRae too cheap in Steve’s eyes, so that he thought he could stray away and take up with another girl when the fancy seized him? Had he been to blame for his brother’s irresponsible behavior?

  And now was McRae having to suffer for it? Could it be that McRae was in love with Steve, and that that was the explanation of her anxiety just now over Steve? Was she breaking her heart about Steve’s disloyalty to her?

  But no, that could not be, for there had never been any direct attention on the part of Steve, more than a playmate and childhood’s companion might have given. Of course Steve was good looking. Curlin had always felt that his brother looked like a young god. And all the girls fell for him everywhere.

  But if she were breaking her heart over Steve that would not explain the way McRae had been in the constant company of Paul Redfern the last few weeks. If she was so much troubled about Steve, why did she go constantly with Paul?

  Of course Link had been pretty thick with Paul lately and certainly Paul had acted as if he admired McRae very much. One could see that by the way he looked at her. Curlin could remember Paul watching he at Sydney’s wedding supper. And yet, sometimes he had seen Paul look that way at Carey, just occasionally.

  He ground his teeth in the darkness, as he swung into the barnyard, and went toward the quarters of the calf. If anybody dared to play fast and loose with McRae they would have him to reckon with, he vowed to himself. He didn’t know what he would do, or what right he would have to do it, but no one should get away with hurting McRae, even if it was his own brother Steve!

  Meantime the song was going on over across the road, and Link Silverthorn standing at the right, watching Cary Carewe carefully, studied her as she opened her pretty coral lips and let forth an exquisite volume of sound, blending it perfectly with Paul’s rich baritone.

  There had been times when Link had admired Carey very much indeed. Times when he felt that she was lovely in every womanly sense, and times also when he felt most certainly that she was deeply interested in himself. In fact he had been pretty sure for some weeks now that if he wanted Carey he could have her, even against all competitors.

  But then there had been other times when he hadn’t been quite so sure, either of Carey or himself.

  There for instance was the evening he had taken her to hear that wonderful Bible teacher from England whose address had thrilled him with a sense of the nearness of his Christ, and whose scholarly, but simple way of stating facts had seemed to lift him nearer to heaven. But Carey had only yawned afterward and asked him on the way home if he didn’t think the poor man was awfully dull. What did people see in him to rave about?

  Still, of course, everybody couldn’t like the same speakers. He couldn’t expect to find a girl whose tastes would be identical with his own, not in every little thing. But he felt he must go cautiously. Carey was attractive. He could easily grow fond of her. She had really lovely eyes, great blue ones, and a smile like a rosebud. She didn’t wear too much make-up like some of the other girls. He wished she didn’t wear any. He didn’t like it. But of course that was a small matter, and in things like that a man could hope to influence a girl, if she really cared for him. And Carey seemed really to like him. She was always ready to go with him in preference to other invitations he had heard her receive.

  But she certainly had a charming way with her. Perhaps is she had been brought up differently, more as he and his sister had been, he would not feel so doubtful about her. What for instance had she meant last Saturday night when he had told her he promised Luther Waite to go to this mission with him and sing? She had taken on a contemptuous scornful expression and said: “Oh, do you have to? Tell hi
m you’ve promised to go with me to the flower show. Let Lutie cultivate the slums if he wants to. It’s more in his line. For heaven’s sake don’t you waste your time singing for common people who would much rather hear radio jazz. You’re too fine for that sort of thing, Link!”

  She had looked straight into his eyes, and her look had said as plainly as words could have done that she liked him and wanted him to stay with her. It also had held contempt for the mission, and Link was too much interested himself in the work that Luther was doing, to let her speak of it in that scornful way. He had tried to argue the matter with her, telling her that the work was God’s work, and that there were souls in those meetings that might be reached by a gospel song who might not be saved any other way. But Carey had smiled with that unbelieving shrug she had, the lifting of her delicate eyebrows, the amused look on her perfect lips, and laughingly answered:

  “Don’t kid yourself, laddie. You aren’t so important as all that. God can get those poor creatures saved if He wants to without your assistance. Besides, if He needs you He certainly has cut you out with a view to a better line of converts than those to be found in Lutie’s slum mission. Come on, Link, I really want you to take me to the flower show. Some of my friends from New England are going to be there tonight and I promised to introduce you to them.”

  Link had not gone to the flower show. He had shaken his head gravely and told her he had promised to sing, and Carey, chagrined over her inability to persuade him, had pressed Paul into service, and tried to make McRae go too. McRae of course had been firm, having promised Lutie to play for him, so Carey had walked off with Paul, half triumphant, half depressed. She wasn’t getting very far in trying to reform Link, and she couldn’t understand it. He seemed refined, and yet he was willing to hobnob with those poor unfortunate men, the very riffraff, the off-scouring of the earth!

  The next day she talked to him about it.

  “I just can’t understand you, Link,” she said in a pretty petulant tone. “You are so fine yourself, and your family are grand. Your mother is such a lady, and has brought you up so beautifully! Why do you seem to have such low tastes? Why is it you are willing to spend so much time in missions? Why, if you must do a preaching act, don’t you go to college students, or even to some of the professors? You have a fine education, and it would take somebody with a fine education to reach students, or professors. That is if there are any of them that need saving.”

  Link gave her a bewildered look, and then spoke gently as to a child who didn’t understand.

  “I do try to witness everywhere, Carey, whenever the way opens. But most of the class you mention are too wise in their own conceit to listen, or else they have heard the message over and over again. It is to the poor and needy, the down-and-outers that I feel the gospel should be taken. Some of them are not only ready but eager to accept salvation. They have no other hope. It is wonderful to them that there is a salvation for them.”

  “Oh, well, I suppose they think they’ve got to get back to respectability or they never can make a living. But Link, really, what makes you think God wants such people saved? Personally I don’t believe He does. I should think He just intends to let them die off and be out of the way. What kind of a place would heaven be for the rest of us with a lot of such people hanging around, anyway? People who didn’t care to make anything of themselves? Really, Link, I think you are making a mistake.”

  Link looked at her in astonishment.

  “Carey! You can’t mean that!” he exclaimed. “Why, Carey, aren’t you a Christian? I always supposed you were.”

  “Why certainly, Link. I joined the church when I was fourteen, and I’ve been more or less active in church work ever since. But I understand this mission of Lutie’s isn’t even supported or backed by any church. Just a bunch of disreputable men got together, probably to be fed and clothed gratis. I don’t think such things ought to be encouraged. It simply makes paupers of those men.”

  “But Carey, haven’t you forgotten that Christ died to save those men?”

  “Well, why aren’t they saved then? That ought to be enough for them that the Lord died, without having to have every respectable man give up his time babying them. It they don’t want to be saved, why bother?”

  Link gave her a sad look.

  “Because Christ has said we must go out into the highways and byways, and compel them to come in. Because He has said we who accept Him as Savior are His witnesses, and our one job in life is to witness for Him.”

  “Well, I can’t see it!” said Carey crossly. “I think you are wasting your time, and spoiling your life. You never can have any fun anywhere. You are always having to go out and minister to the off-scouring of the earth, and you miss a whole lot out of life. You’re only young once, and you don’t want to be an old man before your time. Link, really, it’s awful, the way you just go along and let life slip through your fingers! There was that uncle of Sydney’s who came down to the wedding. He told me you were a brilliant young man, and he said there was a job he knew of up in New York where you would just shine. He said he had told you about it, and was willing to put your name in. He practically said you could have it if you would speak a word. Have you told him you would take it yet? He spoke as if it wouldn’t be going begging long.”

  Link flashed a look at her that seemed to search her for an instant, and his eyebrows lifted just a trifle.

  “No,” he answered, almost coldly. “I did not want the job. It involved the lowering of standards which are a part of my life. I am a Christian first, Carey, not a business man. I am not out to get rich quick.”

  “Oh, nonsense, Link!” said Carey in a vexed tone. “Just think what a lot of good you could do if you had a lot of money. Don’t be a fanatic! It would be a great deal better if you were to spend your time getting rich, and use some of your money to hire some poor theological student to go down in the slums and preach, don’t you think so? You know that a young man who hadn’t so much culture and education might even reach those low-down men better and quicker than you could. They would understand them better than a young man would who had been brought up to better things. You know, Link, I think you lay yourself open to a lot of unpleasant things when you allow yourself to be called on to work in missions and things like that. Look at the way Syd’s father took the liberty of asking you to take that impossible Minnie Lazarelle away from the wedding party. It is just such impositions as that I mean. People will take advantage of you. And besides, look at all the pleasure you miss.”

  Lincoln Silverthorn looked at her steadily for a moment, and then he said gravely:

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, Carey. I’m afraid that means that you and I are ‘two people,’ as Rae’s old Scotch nurse used to say. You see I belong to my Lord first of all, and I’m pledged to His service. These other worldly things are definitely out of the picture with me. And another thing, you speak of missing pleasure. You don’t seem to know that there is no joy in the world like the joy of bringing a lost soul to the Lord. There is no glory in the world like it.”

  Then he turned on her a dazzling smile, that made her remember that word “glory” for a long time afterward.

  He did not talk much with her after that, and very soon went away on a business trip, so that Carey saw very little of him from that time forward, and more and more turned her attention to other friends.

  Paul’s sister invited her and McRae to come in for the symphony concerts now and then, and sometimes both girls went, but more often McRae did not go, as her mother was not well land she wanted to stay with her.

  Paul of course accompanied them to the concerts, and there were pleasant evenings together, and more and more Carey became Paul’s companion, here and there. The Redferns all seemed to like her, and she was enjoying herself hugely. But still she found her heart turning back to Link now and then, and comparing the two friends.

  Chapter 12

  A day or two after Link returned home Luther Waite came out to see
him, and they had a happy evening together planning the winter’s work in the mission.

  The talk lasted far into the night, and then, when they had been silent for a brief space, and it seemed they were about to go to sleep, Luther suddenly said:

  “By the way, Link, I’ve often thought I’d like to know about what you did to charm that poor simp of a Minnie Lazarelle? How did you get rid of her so easily? How was it she didn’t stick and insist on coming back with you? I’d like to know the charm, in case I ever get stuck with her again. You certainly erased her from the scene in short order. How did you do it?”

  Link was so long answering that Luther thought he had fallen asleep and then he suddenly turned facing his guest and talked, slowly, hesitantly.

  “I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, Lute,” he said and his voice had a deep concern. “I don’t know whether I did the right thing or not. Lute, I gave her a bawling out!”

  “Well, I should say you did do the right thing. If ever there was a pest needed bawling out, she was it. My only surprise is that she paid any attention to it. I expected to see her return with you, or five minutes after, with a vicious little plausible excuse that almost might have stopped the wedding. You certainly must have made a hit with her or she wouldn’t have paid any attention to you. What on earth did you say to her?”

  “Well, I didn’t say much. I guess I just showed how disgusted I was with her. That’s what I mean whether I did the right thing, Lute. We’ve been told again and again that when we reprove we should do it with grace in our hearts. But I was mad, Lute. I had to be the goat, and I wanted her to know I didn’t like it. I guess I wasn’t doing it as unto the Lord. It hadn’t occurred to me that the Lord cared anything about her.”

  “H’m!” said Luther thoughtfully. “I suppose He does, doesn’t He? I hadn’t thought of that!”