When he found himself

Preface

B y my side is a basket of roses and asters — a gift from a friend, — and in their white and blue basket with their faces against the green sprays, they are to me a snatch of the whole universe.

Man, God and Nature — all are in this basket of flowers and are as connected, yet distinct as in the entire universe. Each flower has a different face, each one to me is a harbinger, but the sweetest message they bring is this — ''A friend sent me.’’ A friend!

And to you who read this book, if somewhere in its pages you find a message which will give you more courage, faith or make your heart lighter, I will feel I have, not written in vain. It is for you, my friend, I have written. And you who have given me a smiling Good Morning, or a pleasant word in passing, and again, you who have looked frowningly on my deeds and have spoken sharply against my ways — all you have made this book possible. I have written life just as I have seen it. The people I have known.

As I turn again to my basket of flowers in their spicy fragrance, as they reach out to me, ( 5 )

Preface

I see the past, present and future of our world. And the future is grander and better than the past or present ever has been. For this war is the one great sign that our world is growing better. It has its horrors and sorrows greater and deeper than any war we have ever known — but beyond — beyond is the goal which civilization is longing to reach and which without this war, it would have taken centuries to reach. For good can never arise without a conflict — the struggle is the symbol of higher ideals — of hope and longing for a fairer vision of God.

And my message to you can be given in no better words than those I have written at the beginning of the fourth chapter —

Live, love and grow. Reach out to all the good you meet. Have faith in man. Make your heaven now and live in it.

And love is blind?

Nay, foolish one ’tis love That scans the depths and finds Good, where mortals find despair.

Only Mother

When first I saw the light.

Viewed distant heights

And dreamed where I might climb.

And over walls

Of faults so big and high

Aunt Mary saw

And loved me just the same.

From over seas

A knight, brave, strong and true,

Came — felt my spirit

Loved me, and called me, wife.

In everyone

There’s something big and fine Failures and faults Forgot — because love saw.

And love is blind?

Why those who love, can make The world go round Because they understand.

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.iV ~ J.

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Chapter One

And so every one of us, as we walk down the Trail, come to the narrow precipices and shady nooks alike. The Trail never changes. The flowers blossom for the rich and poor; the same spring waters all mankind. If we go astray into the many bypaths, we must all hit the Trail again, for only ^he Trail leads to the Gate, through which we pass to the Land Beyond. Every soul in time reaches the Land Beyond, but many have to linger at the Gate to shake their dusty garments and cast away the clinging burrs.

A merry whistling tune broke the stillness of the September afternoon and as the tune grew louder and faster, the shambling form of Jake Crex appeared around the corner and approached the carriage shop. He sat down on a bench, pushed his dusty, black hat back from his dingy forehead and took his beloved pipe from his mouth.

‘Well sir, I had the queerest dream last night. I was just telling Doc about it and by gosh, there is something going to happen! I never felt so queer. A whole gang of women kept coming to me and asking me to marry them and if there is one thing I shun, it's a woman. One of them tried to kiss me, by grab! I never kissed my wife but once and that was after she was dead.

But if something don't happen, Fll miss my guess. I never worry but I just feel sort of queer about Harringtons. Golly, it's sort of risky business driving that there new machine in the city, not knowin' more about it than he does" — and pulling his lank self together, he arose and sauntered out. Then turning quickly, came back.

‘That there little teacher is a peach. She sure is gettin' her reputation up. And she don't whip either. By heck! I uster think that was the only way. It orter be yet, — but she seems to get along. But it's my opinion — Well she's pretty anyhow. Do wish though that Harringtons were back from town. He's always going on some fool errant."

After Jake had gone and his whistle told them he was out of hearing, the men laughed goodnaturedly.

“Old Jake's evidently a woman hater," Berger said.

“Yes, a woman hater and a prophet. Something's going to happen," answered Williams.

A large green car hummed down Broadway pike, sailed through a small town and darted down a narrow country road, a cloud of dust twirling after it. The driver, a well dressed man, guided it skillfully. The spacious back seat had two occupants. One a young woman with beautiful golden tinted hair, under a black picture hat, — richly dressed, perhaps a little overdressed, too much jewelry to be effective. And the other a little boy of four with dark brown hair and big blue eyes, holding a once white elephant tightly under one arm and a box of mint candy in the other hand. The woman bent to kiss the cherub beside her.

''Do you love me, mother

"Of course, sweetheart.’’

"Does papa love me too?”

"Yes,” falteringly.

"Then why does he leave us all by ourselves? And only comes to see us once in a long, long time?”

"He must work to make money” — her voice quivered. She knew she was lying, so the childish eyes might not see the awful gap.

"To make money for us, mother?”

"See the cows and baby horses in the field, Loyd?” she asked, trying to turn his mind to other things.

There was a grinding noise and the green car slowed down. Finally, it stopped with a sudden jerk.

''What’s wrong, Guy?” the fair-haired lady asked, leaning forward.

"Nothing serious, I hope,” came the reply, as he climbed out.

Down the road about three hundred yards, a band of gypsies had encamped. The dogs were hunting in the tall grasses, keeping up a continuous howl.

Ragged, dirty-faced, frowsy-haired children were gathering sticks, and several men laid in the shade. Just as Guy Fuller was brushing the dust from his motor coat to enter the machine, a woman arrayed in bright colors and bedecked with tawdry jewelry, drew near the machine. Neither man nor woman saw her, but Loyd did and putting his priceless possessions behind him, he nestled close and whispered — "Mother, look.”

The Gypsy laid her brown hand across the door and pleaded — "Let me tell your fortune. Something great in store for you.”

"Not today,” the fair lady drew away from her.

"Cross me hand with silver,” she whined, "and ril wish you never want, my lucky gentleman, Sir,” to Guy.

At this he climbed into the automobile, banged the door back of him. '^No Florence,’’ he said softly as the child’s mother reached for her purse. He looked at her fondly. It was her one fault — generosity, giving even herself, if anyone pleaded piteously.

Florence put her purse back. The hideous woman’s quick eye caught the emblem painted on the car.

'^Ha,” she cried, shaking her crooked finger and putting her grimy face close to Guy’s — ''Ze Land Turtle bring ye trouble. Let Queen Zarvis bring ye luck” — pointing to herself. “Ze bridges are many.”

'T shan’t cross the bridges,” Guy returned carelessly.

''Yes, but ye cannot go in or out ze town without crossing ze bridge.”

"Such outcasts and so barbaric,” observed Florence, as they left the threatening queen and passed their caravan. "She is a prophetess. Are you afraid?”

"No. I can’t imagine a town that you can’t get into or leave without crossing a bridge.”

A fifteen minutes’ drive and they swung around a corner and came to a standstill along the side of a small country station.

"Twenty-three minutes until your train is due/’ Guy remarked, coming out of the station. He sat in the back seat holding Loyd, ^Well, the Land Turtle gave you a nice ride” — to Loyd.

“Yes, so much pleasanter than waiting in the hot Columbus Depot and just think, I saved twenty-five cents” — Florence said.

“Why can’t we go all the way with you?” Loyd interrupted.

“You are going with mamma a long way on the train,” Guy replied.

“How I wish we might stay with you, Guy. I am so happy when we are together. Why can’t we ?”

“You will be better satisfied there in Valley Mills. You’ll have a comfortable home and your work will keep you so busy, you will be happy.”

“Yes,” and her eyes were dreamy as she touched her violin, “I love it.”

“We couldn’t be together. My work takes me here and there. You must be settled to use your talent.”

The train whistled. The three scrambled out and as the snorting train paused, Guy held Florence in his arm an instant, then grabbing the child, gave him a kiss and a hearty hug. And as the train sped on separating the trio, it seemed to echo back — “I thot I could, I thot I could, I thot I could.”

So the Land Turtle rambled on toward Samsoun and in about an hour after Jake Crex’s shambling form had left the carriage shop, the Land Turtle descended the slopping hill, crossed the bridge and entered the village.

'"One bridge crossed safely,’’ Guy laughed to himself at the absurd remark of the gypsy.

Everything was quiet in the little sleepy town. In the school house on the hill, work went along uninterruptedly. Half a dozen tiny tots slipped through the big doors and were running home. Guy’s mind went back to little Loyd, so deep were his thots, he did not see the curly haired boy run out into the road after a ball, until the big car was scarcely two yards from the child. Unconsciously he sounded the horn, then a great fear clutched at his heart. The big car jerked, swayed to the right and turned into the ditch.

In the school room the ^'Little Teacher” was flitting from child to child, helping each with his difficult lesson. The principal, his assistant and the high school pupils had gone to a neighboring town for a football game. In fifteen minutes the gong would sound and the children in her room and the primary room across the hall would go home. It was warm and the first week was a trying one.

Suddenly the tooting of a horn and a crash like the instant stopping of a huge machine and every child was on his feet. Despite all the little teacher could do, there were shouts and groans.

Out in the road a green car lay kicking and spurting in a disgraceful manner. The little teacher pulled back the curtain and stared too, for even a balky machine in Samsoun was exciting. Then she saw the form of a man lying pinned under the car. Turning to the children she said, 'T want Keith and Clark to come with me, and Merrill to run for Doctor Paulding. The rest of you see how sweet and good you can be in the room.”

Gathering her crew together, she slipped quietly out while the children, awed as they always were by her calm, motherly way, watched from the windows.

The man writhed in pain and groans came to her as she approached the twisted heap. He attempted to speak but the pain was too great and as she knelt beside him a look of relief came over his face. A misty blackness seemed to be between him and those working over him and it was not cleared away, until he awoke several hours later in a cool room with the soft breezes coming in the window.

“Where shall we take him/’ the Doctor asked, as they took his crushed form from the wreck.

“To the hotel, I should think,” suggested one of the men.

“But Mrs. Maynard is crowded now and expecting more tonight,” someone else argued. Then the little teacher stepped in and had her way, as she always did, and as a result the sufferer landed in a pleasant room in the Harrington home. Not once did she stop to think what Mr. and Mrs. Harrington would say.

CHAPTER TWO ’Twas just to help humanity along

I had no thot of pay or praise When I did sing that song.

After the Doctor had left and the big house was quiet, the little teacher tiptoed softly up the stair, raised the shade so the soft twilight could come into the room, and sat by the window. A butterfly fluttered against the screen and the catalpa leaves danced playfully on the veranda roof. The calmness of the world outside brought her to her senses. What had she done? What business had she to bring a strange man so injured that it would be impossible to move him for at least a month, into this home? This home where everything was so comfortable and she was only a boarder. What would Mrs. Harrington say? How would she ever explain?

Her chin rested in the palm of her two capable hands, not white, little lady-do-nothing hands, the kind you read about, but pinkish human hands, the kind that care for sick children and cook warm suppers for hungry men. The old clock downstairs struck the half hour, a few ( 18 )

minutes passed and the shop bell told the end of a business day. The frown cleared from her face as the old bell clanged cheerfully for wasn’t Mr. Harrington owner of that shop and bell and wasn’t he one of the kindest and biggest hearted men in Samsoun? And although only an acquaintance of a few weeks, he was father to her in name and attitude. Like the old shop bell always ready to help, as it was to be rung.

And Mrs. Harrington, why she was just, Mother. All the good that word could imply was wrapped in her noble character.

Down the west road a beautiful car was gliding swiftly toward Samsoun and as it crossed the bridge and climbed the grade to the village, the little teacher laid her head on the window-sill and breathed a prayer for the life of this unknown man, and then left things in the hands, of the All Powerful Father who knows the why of such strange happenings.

A groan brought her to her feet and as she moved to the bedside, a car shot down the south road and up the drive. Harringtons had come home. From that hour the little teacher lived in another world — a world where there is real love and real rivals — a world of strife, and hate, and jealousy, of friends, and beautiful things — a world where Fate reigns and one must patiently wait for the turn of the tide.

When Mrs. Harrington alighted from the machine, Katie was there waiting anxiously to break the news. Her hair was slightly disheveled and her blue Irish eyes had a serious expression.

“Shure mum but it is me that is after a bein’ glad to see you come home. With me hand all burnt and a man in your very best room upstairs all smashed up, liable to go any minute.”

'‘Why Katie, what do you mean?” Mrs. Harrington leaned against the car for support. “A man upstairs? Where is he going, and how can he go, if he’s all smashed up?”

“It’s where he came from that I’m wonderin’ about. ’Tis a good thing he can’t move, or no tellin’ how soon he might be a creepin’ out with some o’ them handpainted vases and silver candlesticks or me cameo pin that your husband was after a givin’ me for me birthday. It’s meself that’s been a thinkin’ no good would come from a takin’ that young school ma’rm to board,” Katie cried in one breath. For this new arrival did upset the entire household and make no little trouble for Katie at times.

“Katie,” and Mr. Harrington spoke sternly.

“Tell us quickly what you know about this accident.’'

Then she knew she had said too much, so embarrassed by this abrupt reproof, she hurriedly tried to explain, and in her blundering way, make them understand.

“Shure and I was jest a makin’ Love Knots for Tea, had ’em so light and flufify, jest ready for the oven, when such a commotion as I was after a bearin’ on the porch and in came that girl followed by the Doctor, both a tellin’ me in one voice what had happened, and that girl givin’ me orders to git your very best bed ready and Doc a givin’ orders for hot water and ice till I couldn’t get me wits together — then I looked over their shoulders and saw your brother Frank and two more men a carryin’ such a mangled form into this very house. It made me blood bile and I jest had me tongue ready to lick ’em all when something seemed to whisper in me ears, ‘Katie phwat if it was after a bein’ your boy who was hurt and all alone in some strange place with no one to care for him’ and before I knew what I was doin’ old Katie was a climbin’ those stairs and fixin’ the bed and the next minute was a heatin’ water and how me heart did ache when I helped Doctor put those ice bandages on his poor head.”

She brushed a tear from her cheek and went on, “Then in my hurry, I spilled a whole pan of boilin^ water on me hand, and the ^Love Knots^ is all spoiled and your best linen sheets all soiled for I didn’t have time to change ’em. But that giddy teacher is the start of it all and I’m after a thinkin’ — still if it were me boy and he was all alone” — tears came faster, and Katie walked blindly toward the house.

Mr. and Mrs. Harrington exchanged glances and she followed Katie into the house, gave her directions for tea and laying aside her dusty garments, prepared herself to enter the sick room.

* * * *

The bandaged head tried to turn, and a right hand grasped weakly in the air then fell limply. With a groan the eyes slowly opened. The room seemed dark, there was an odor of camphor then the fog began to clear away and the air was fresh and sweet. A robin’s goodnight song came to him clearly through the open window. Was he home at Reno? It grew darker again. What was the matter? No, it couldn’t be home. Was it Columbus? No, surely not that noisy, dusty city, it was so quiet and sweet here. He couldn’t think, it was so much nicer to lay there, he was so tired. There was a rustle somewhere near him. He moved his head, oh, such a very little, then he remembered — there had been an accident near a little town and someone, it was a girl, had found him. He turned his head a little more, this time he could see a slender figure dressed in white. He tried to speak but his lips were feverish and his tongue seemed so thick and immovable.

‘'Want a drink?” asked a low voice.

He tried to answer but this good fairy seemed to understand. For a minute she was gone, then back again. He tried to reach for the water but a firm hand slipped under the pillow and in an instant the cool water was to his lips.

“Thank — you,” he murmured. Then in a few minutes — “Please tell me where I am — and — what happened,” he finished slowly.

“If you will promise not to talk anymore, I will tell you a little now and more when you are stronger. You had an accident and we brought you here so you would have a comfortable place until you are better. You are in the nicest little town, Samsoun, and this is the Harrington home. Please keep very quiet and don’t speak unless you wish for something. Now I am going to give you something good to drink.”

He watched her fill a glass. It was a tempting sort of stuff and was refreshing and soothing. He felt sleepy again. ''A good fairy/’ he murmured.

She turned quickly and raised a warning finger.

Chapter Three

On rising — live each day As you plod on your way,

So that to all you meet God will seem nearer.

Mrs. Harrington slowly ascended the stairs, — at the turning she stopped and meditated. It was just at that twilight hour when there is a lull in the world outside, broken only by the sleepy twittering of the sparrows and the intermittent call of the meadow lark. The soft shadows fell around the tall, queenly form of this Mother as she stood there thinking. She wore a soft clinging gown of white and lavender. On her head was a silver crown, nature had given her, more beautiful than any silversmith could make. No gems adorned this crown for the setting was too rare for ordinary stones.

At her throat her dress opened modestly and a pendant, with a garnet setting, hung on a slender chain emphasized the whiteness of her neck.

Looking up she saw a slender figure standing at the head of the stair. In the face was a wistful pleading look as if fearful of having done ( 25 )

wrong, yet the proud bearing of the body seemed to say, I did what seemed right. It was for humanity’s sake. Whatever Mrs. Harrington was meditating over, no one knew, for in an instant the tall queenly figure was embracing the proud slender one, and if Mrs. Harrington intended to tell the little teacher that she objected to such impulsive and thoughtless actions, all such allusions melted away when two arms wound around her neck, and the little teacher whispered, ''Mother.”

"Katie told us all about it. Of course we were surprised. It was so unusual to have such a happening in Samsoun. But tell me — is it any one you know ?”

One arm still encircled the neck of the wonderful woman — "No, he is a stranger to all of us. But I never thought of how it might seem to other people or the trouble it would cause you. When I saw that crushed form suffering so terribly, I forgot all — except that we must do something to ease him. When he saw us trying our best to clear the wreck away, he tried to thank us, then Oh, such an expression came over his face, as he watched the two little boys working. Although the blood was running freely from an ugly cut, just above his forehead, he smiled bravely. The thot came to me — what if he has a wife and just such children waiting in some cozy little home for him”

“We will do the best we can — if we only knew something about him, but being he is a perfect stranger! — Wasn’t there some way in which you could discover his name?”

“There wasn’t a single card or paper anywhere but we found a bill book with several bills in one pocket and an inexpensive watch.”

“What kind of a machine did he have? Do you know how it happened?”

“It is a Hartford, I heard the horn and the next minute we saw that a great machine had turned turtle. He evidently is quite wealthy judging from the car and his clothing.”

“Yes, but you can’t always tell from appearances. If we only knew something about him. But an absolute stranger so seriously injured is a great responsibility.”

The young face was growing graver — ^‘Doctor suggested waiting until morning, then if he does not recover sufficiently to talk with us, he will send the auto number into Columbus and it surely could not be long until some word can be received concerning him.”

“I didn’t think of that. It will work out all right.” the older woman hurriedly replied, seeing the tired, worried look that was making the girl’s shoulders sag.

“You see today is Friday and I will be home to help you — then next week is the State Convention beginning Monday and lasting until Wednesday, so there won’t be any school. What does Katie think about the whole thing?”

“She was very indignant at first but feels differently now. Dear soul, she meant all right. And she will be worth her weight in gold now, as she always is! Her hand is hurting her so badly.”

The entire conversation had taken place just outside the sickroom door. Mrs. Harrington pushed the door open and stepped inside the room. She stood there a moment. — Amidst the snowy white pillows and bed clothing lay the bandaged form of a man. The face was turned toward the window revealing a clean cut profile of a man about thirty-five. Above the bandaged forehead, were locks of dark brown hair.

Moving toward the center of the room she saw, not the countenance of a handsome man, the kind that by the simple moving of the eyelids, wins a woman’s love, not a mouth that curves in sneers at things distasteful to them, or a nose so perfect as to hint at royal lineage, but the face of a man who has seen both the good and bad roads of life, and who by choice has followed the former. For there is a determination of the chin, relieved from sternness by a mouth, perhaps too sensitive for a man, and a nose — why it was just the kind to give the face a jolly look, which often is the making of a man.

As Mrs. Harrington saw this, the strangeness of the situation came back to her. Never did she remember of an accident in Samsoun, much less such an unusual ending. But if she could have looked into the future she would have seen it was not the ending but the beginning.

A few minutes later out in the hall she began planning. To Susie she said, “You stay in the room until tea. And Katie will remain during the tea hour, then I shall come for a half hour or so for I want you to bandage Katie’s hand. Use some of your salve which you say is so good. It will please her and she will feel better toward you.”

Downstairs the lights were lighted. Mr. Harrington laid his paper aside, entered the dining room and stood at the head of the table waiting for Mrs. Harrington. A careless onlooker would merely have seen a man a little past fifty’ dressed in spotless linen, waiting as so many must wait for their supper. But this man was not waiting impatiently. He had a contented look and at a faint rustle at the far corner of the room, he turned his gaze from the savory, well-set table, crossed the room, greeted his wife and led her to her usual place. In the hall the little teacher busied herself with a stray lock, so as not to intrude upon the scene, then as she saw the tall gallant form straighten she tripped quietly into the room humming a soft melody.

The evening meal was always an enjoyable one. All cares were laid aside — no one thot of discussing disagreeable things. Tonight Mrs. Harrington strove to keep the conversation away from the accident.

'We had a beautiful drive today,’’ she remarked. "The pike isn’t completed yet so we had to go by way of Reynoldsburg. When we were almost readv to come home we met Dr. Barnes. He inquired about you.”

"Yes,” asserted Mr. Harrington, "he says he is coming out to Samsoun soon and will call. Did you answer his letter?”

The little teacher blushed slightly. "Yes, and I believe it is his turn to write. I wonder if he has any new cases. His work is so interesting. He has promised, you know, to take me to the penitentiary some Sunday morning when I am in Columbus.”

“Perhaps mother and I had better go along and see that you two do not have any trouble in getting out of the Pen/’

“You are very kind, father, but don’t you think that Doctor’s superior wisdom and my infinite beauty would charm any keeper or guard?”

. “It might charm them so as to keep you in, instead of leaving you out,” Mrs. Harrington rejoined.

A little later she excused herself and went upstairs to take Katie’s place. Katie came down in a seemingly good humor.

“Katie, the Xove Knots’ were fine. They are always so tempting after one has had a long drive. They weren’t spoiled at all,” Mr. Harrington vouched. “I have eaten until I am ashamed of myself.”