“I know,” said the girl earnestly. “I don’t wonder you feel that way. But I’m sorry you feel you must go back so soon. It’s been so great to have you home again. And it does seem as if you really ought to stay until the doctor thinks it is right for you to return, if you must go. Of course, I understand how you must feel to be taken out of it before it is over, but it doesn’t seem as if it was right that you should be allowed to go back into such strenuous action until you’ve really got rested. I should think they would insist on your taking your full leave.”
“Perhaps they will,” said Barney, with a sigh, “but I’m hoping they’ll see it the way I do. You see I have a reason. I have a buddy out there somewhere, perhaps among the enemy, who saved my life once when I was near death. He was wounded himself, and had been doing hard duty for hours, and he came across me wounded, unconscious, in the dark, and strung me across his shoulders, even though he was badly wounded himself, and carried me back to my outfit. He carried me through enemy fire safely. I owe him my life. And now he is missing in action himself somewhere, or was when I came away, and I can’t get him out of my mind. It may be he has been heard from, but I doubt it. They had about given up hope for him when I was sent home. But I’ve got it on my heart that I want to get permission to go back, and hunt for him, save him from whatever mess he’s in, if I can. I owe him that. He did as much for me, and after all he’s a valuable man. He’s done a lot in his special line. It may be I can make them see it my way.”
“But—aren’t you a valuable man, too?” asked Sunny shyly.
“I wouldn’t say so,” Barney said, smiling. “Not in comparison with Stormy Applegate. And what’s my life if I can’t give it for one who would have done the same for me?”
“I see,” said the girl, with sweet understanding in her eyes. “It’s beautiful of you. And I can see why you want to go. Will they let you, do you think?”
“I’m not sure. I’m going to do my best to make them see it my way. But there’s always a lot of delay and red tape about changes of this sort. I’m glad you can understand. It’s nice to have a real friend. One who is in sympathy and can see why I must go, and soon, if I can get the chance.”
“Yes,” said the girl gravely. “I can see. But I could wish it didn’t have to be.”
With a tender understanding smile he took her hand in a quick grateful clasp.
“Thank you,” he said, looking down at her gravely. “I’ll remember that. It will help me. And you’ll be praying, won’t you?”
“Oh, yes,” said Sunny. “I’ve been doing that for you all the way through.”
They had come to the road. He helped her across the fence, took her up to the house, and then hurried home, and to the telephone.
Chapter 10
Meantime the gang that had swarmed down upon him with a surprise party the night before had no intention of letting Barney get out of their clutches. They promptly organized their forces, and inaugurated a series of parties and dinners, calculated not only to keep his time rather full but with the object in view of changing his whole point of view. They felt it was for his good that they should instruct him in the ways of this new and present world that war had brought to his hometown. He simply must not be allowed to go around acting “pious” as they called it, just because he was in the old town where his mother brought him up that way.
To that end the gang made their way to the Vance home early on Sunday evening, carrying with them several large boxes of candy, feeling that this offering certainly would not start any antagonism, and could be passed around so casually that all would go smoothly.
The plan was to bring invitations to various parties, gatherings, and entertainments. They called themselves “The Community Cheer Association.” Their professed object was to bring a degree of comfort and cheer to lonely mothers and wives and sweethearts of soldiers who were far away in peril on land or sea or air. The statement had been drawn up by Hortense, and she was clever at that sort of thing. There was ample opportunity for eloquence, and Hortense felt that if she knew anything at all about Barney Vance such an object would appeal to him at once, for she could see that Barney was still keen about his mother, so perhaps that would be the best appeal for a start. Later, when sentiment failed, a more worldly appeal would surely have a better chance. Of course Hortense did not tell all her cohorts this. They thought they were merely assisting in a clever plan to divert Barney from a war obsession that threatened to make him prematurely grave and depressed, and they entered into the scheme with all their giddy young hearts. That is, all of them who were not already pledged to some defense outfit and about to leave for their assignments.
The Association arrived at the Vance home in the early twilight while the church bells were still ringing far and near, and a few birds were still chirping anxiously about the problems of the next day, involving the cat that had taken up a sniper’s position behind the lilac bush and menaced every crumb that fell outside the kitchen door.
Roxy and Joel were sitting in the big rockers on the front porch enjoying the lovely night, for the moon was rising and there were many stars in sight. It wasn’t often they got to enjoy a Sunday night rest on the porch, for they were regular attendants at church and never stayed at home for trifles. But Joel had stepped on a nail and had a very sore foot, so they had decided they ought to stay at home that night.
But when those noisy girls and boys pulled up in the driveway by the end of the front porch, Joel groaned aloud: “There come those termagants again,” he said angrily, and began to swing his sick foot down from the pillow on the chair that Roxy had arranged so comfortably for him. “It seems we’re not to have any peace anymore. Get your duds on, Roxy. I’m going to church!”
“No!” said Roxy sharply. “Sit still. Don’t take your foot down! You’re not going to church and neither am I. Leave this to me. I’ll settle this thing.”
Roxy got up and walked to the end of the porch, her hands folded neatly over the front of her Sunday dress.
“Yes?” she said in her most severe formal tone. “Did you want something?”
“We sure did,” said Hortense defiantly. “We want Barney. Call Barney, won’t you, right away? We’ve come to see him.”
“Sorry,” said Roxy loftily. “He isn’t here!” She told herself in her heart that that wasn’t quite true. She wasn’t sorry. She was glad that Barney wasn’t there. But she had been hearing the young people talk so much that that word sorry had become common parlance, like a formal apology. Well, perhaps it was allowable in that sense. Then she called back her attention to what the hated Hortense was saying.
“Not here? Where is he?” she demanded.
“He didn’t say where he was going,” said Roxy severely.
“Well, when is he coming back?” she asked imperiously.
“Well, I wouldn’t be able to say,” said Roxy affably. “He doesn’t consult me about his plans. He comes and goes as he wants to, you know.”
Hortense gave her an unbelieving look.
“Well, that’s ridiculous!” said the girl, curling her lip. “You probably know all about it. You’re his old nurse and you always used to snoop around and find out. I’m sure you know perfectly well. So spill it out! We’re in a hurry!”
Roxy stood there, her arms folded, looking at Hortense calmly. At last she asked, “Would you like to leave a message?”
The other girls looked at their leader thoughtfully. Where would such a course get them?
But Hortense closed her lips firmly and shook her head. “No,” she said. “We wish to talk with Barney himself. We don’t want any of your twisted reports carried back to him. Maybe we’ll come in and wait for him. We could sing. We’ve got somebody here who can play for dancing. We could have a little dance and just wait for Barney to come back.” She looked at them all for their assent.
“No!” said Roxy firmly. “You won’t do that! This is Sunday and we don’t have things like that going on in this house on Sunday.”
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“Well, this doesn’t happen to be your house,” said Hortense haughtily. “You really have nothing to say about it.”
“It happens that we are in charge,” said old Joel suddenly, hobbling over to the end of the porch, his voice gruff and dictatorial. “We’re in charge of this house,” he repeated firmly, and the young would-be guests looked at him in amazement. In all the years they had been coming to this house Joel had never put forth such a determined personality. He really looked threatening, standing there with one stocking foot wrapped with bandages.
“Aw, c’mon, Hortie,” said Hank, scowling at the girl whose willing henchman he usually was glad to be. He well remembered a vigorous spanking administered in his youth by Joel after he was found picking raspberries from the Vance bushes.
“Yes, c’mon,” echoed the girls. “Let’s drive around a little while and see if we won’t meet Barney.”
“Yes, c’mon, Hortie,” said Cap uneasily. “It’s a nice night to drive around, and we don’t wanta have an argument with that old guy. He looks unpleasant. I’d sorta hate ta have ta knock him out. C’mon, we can come back after a while!”
And suddenly Hortense decided he was right. Clamorously they drove away, shouting inappropriate remarks to the old couple who had so effectually foiled their plans.
When they were out of sight in the moonlight, and out of sound down the road, Joel hobbled back and stood looking down at the chair where he had sat so comfortably a few minutes ago.
“That’s what we get for staying home from church, Roxy,” he remarked grimly. “If it wasn’t so late I’d go yet. But seeing it is late and everybody would turn around and watch us hobble into the back seat in the middle of the sermon, suppose we go to bed, Roxy. I hate to give up sitting out here in the moonlight, but I can’t stand having that gang coming back here, for I just know if they did come back I’d go out in spite of this ding-busted foot and wallop each one of them. I swear I would.”
Roxy set her lips firmly and said, “Yes, let’s go to bed. We’ll lock all the doors and turn out all the lights, and then they can go hang. Barney has his key. And anyway, wherever he is, he may be pretty late coming in.”
“Yes? I thought they said he had to rest? Didn’t he have doctor’s orders? He don’t seem to be keeping any orders very well,” said Joel.
“Well, I guess there isn’t anything we can do about it, is there?” drawled Roxy indifferently.
“Seems like,” assented Joel, climbing into bed with a gingerly care for his sick foot. “But then, Barney always was a good boy. I don’t fancy he’ll do anything to really upset his health. I heard him say he was keen to get back to war, and the quicker he gets okay, the quicker he can go, more’s the pity. Although I can’t help being glad he wasn’t home tonight when those banshees arrived. I wonder what his mother would have done if she’d been here when they arrived?”
“Well, I’m glad she wasn’t, for her sake, but I’m sure if she had been she would have had some gentle, very natural way of stopping the things she didn’t approve. She always could, even when Barney was a mere baby. She never let the neighbor children’s gang get ahead of her. And yet she was friendly with them all, and always spoke gently to them. That’s a real lady for you. Always speak gentle, but never let wrong things go on. They all knew that when she was alive, and they never tried any of their high shines on her. If I don’t miss my guess, her son’s got the same gift, and they’ll presently find out. Not till then will they let him alone.”
Meantime Barney had gone to see Sunny, late that afternoon, in answer to a telephone invitation from Mrs. Roselle to come to Sunday night supper, and so have time to run through his solo before they went to church, and Barney accepted the invitation eagerly.
Ever since he had left Sunny at her home and hurried back to his unwritten letters, he had been thinking about her. Perhaps it was not conscious thinking, but nevertheless in the back of his mind her face had been hovering, and when he was reminded of her, of anything she said, of the way she looked when she said it, there was a kind of satisfaction in his mind about her. She had grown up just as her sweet little child personality had promised, and he was thankful that in the world there was one girl who was like that.
Barney had not been giving much thought to girls in the last two years. A few girls, friends of his college days, had written him several times each when he was overseas and in constant action, and he had answered them as he had opportunity, and that had been the end of it. Some of the home young people had written occasionally, too, at first, and then dropped out of his knowledge. And now he had come home and found to his disappointment that so many of them seemed to have changed, grown coarse, hard, giddy, and selfish. He wondered if that could all be laid to the account of war and the changing world. And then when he spent a few hours with Sunny he had been so relieved to find that she was not like the rest.
So as he walked down the sunlit meadow that Sunday afternoon and up the hill toward her home, he found his heart quickened with pleasant anticipation of going to meet one who had the same moral background as himself. The kind of living and thinking that had formed the background of home in his mind during those terrible days of war. The home to which he would go back, where living was sane, people had right ideas, men believed in God and at least tried to keep up a semblance of serving Him. He didn’t think this all out in words, but it was a kind of atmosphere surrounding his thoughts and made him pleasant company on his walk in the sunshine.
So the afternoon had been a congenial one, exchanging thoughts with one who was in sympathy with the convictions he felt were most vital.
Sitting under the trees in the old rustic chairs where he remembered sitting long ago when he had come over on some errand for his mother, they had a long talk. Only instead of the little girl, whose name was Sunny, who used to beg him to swing her or to play ball with her, there was this slim lovely girl just as sweet-faced, with just as bright hair, who went by the name of Margaret. And she seemed to know all the answers to the questions he asked, and was deeply interested in every topic he introduced. She wanted to know about his thoughts and feelings when he went into battle. Things he had never expected to tell anyone, now that his mother was gone. But he found himself telling this girl his innermost experiences.
All too soon the delightful talk was over, as they were called to the pleasant dining room, and the delicious supper. Hot muffins and strawberry jam, hot chocolate with whipped cream. Tempting slices of cold chicken, crisp celery, a luscious maple-walnut cake, and canned peaches from the peach orchard behind the house.
Then suddenly it was getting late. There was scarcely time to go over the solo before they started for church.
“You know, I really haven’t any business singing a solo,” said Barney as he folded up his music.
“Why not, I should like to know?” asked Margaret. “Your voice is even better than I remember it, and I used to think it was the most wonderful voice I had ever heard.”
“Oh, you were just a kid, you know. But I really haven’t done any singing for two years, except as a crowd of fellows always sing in their leisure time when they get together.”
“Well, your voice is as good as ever,” said the girl earnestly. “And I know. I really do. We had a very noted singer staying in the neighborhood all last summer, and he used to ask me to play his accompaniments sometimes. I used to think his voice was like yours. It was very beautiful.”
“You’re very flattering,” Barney said, smiling, “but I’m afraid you’re prejudiced. And I do hope you will not be disillusioned about my voice when I sing tonight.”
“No,” said Margaret. “I’m sure I shall not. I am entirely satisfied at the way you have just been singing. Now, let’s forget it. I don’t want you to get self-conscious. Look at that sunset. Isn’t it glorious? It makes my heart thrill the way it thrilled me while you were singing, ‘And the glory, the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.’ ”
/> “It’s rather presumptuous of me to attempt such a big thing when I’m practically off a battlefield and a hospital bed.”
“Never mind. You’re not to think of that. Remember your audience has not been hearing many masterpieces of music, and it will be the words that you will get across to them. Certainly you can put words with music better than anyone I ever heard.”
They walked slowly down the road together into the glory of the evening, as the sunset lit their way. It seemed to them both that it was the end of one of those perfect days that only come now and then, like resting places on the way to heaven.
Mercifully, they were spared meeting that cavalcade of would-be callers who had come out searching for Barney, for they had gone in the opposite direction, and there was nothing to spoil the beauty of their walk to church, with the church bells ringing out in the sweet air, now near, now far, and now and again a sleepy bird giving a flutelike call, and with happiness in their hearts.
Then they were at the church, his mother’s church, and all the old friends sitting in their accustomed seats, some of them sweet old faces, his mother’s friends, old men and old women, carrying on at home, very few younger men in the audience; just a few in uniform. He could recognize the grin on a few of those uniformed young faces. They had been little boys sitting around the sidelines when he was playing baseball.
The old minister in the pulpit, with a kindly voice that trembled a little and white hair that had grown scant, was the same minister who had been in the pulpit for years. He had been retired, and the pulpit had been filled by a younger man. But he had gone into the service as a chaplain, and the old minister was back carrying on. Barney was glad of that. It seemed more natural with old Reverend Copeland there. He gave a tender glance toward the old-fashioned pew where his mother used to sit, and where for years he had sat beside her, finding the hymns for her, and the place in the Bible, and looking over it with her.
Barney had taken a seat in the choir, at one side of the organ, most of the choir in front of him, and he had the advantage of being able to see everybody in the room, without himself being conspicuous. Also, when the young organist took her place at the organ he found himself where he could watch her sweet face with its earnest changing expression. It gave him opportunity to study her without seeming to stare. He was glad to find her face just as flawless, just as sweet and unworldly at such close range as he had judged it to be when he was talking with her, across the room, and he continued to be amazed that she, so young in a world at war, had been able to mature so beautifully, and without the hardness of so many of the current age.