“And I’ve saved on several things,” he said. “There’s ten dollars more than I really need that I’m returning to you now.”
“Try and do it!” said Alan, eluding Bob and striding off toward the hardware store with a merry wave of his hand.
“Get even with you yet!” yelled Bob merrily and went off toward his brother-in-law’s house.
A sort of sick premonition went over Alan as he approached the store. He wondered if there had been any developments.
“Any phone calls?” he asked the clerk, who had been restively watching the clock, anxious to get out and play baseball with the Twilight League, and wanting his supper besides.
“Yep!” the lad said. “Couple! Real estate man in the city, Spur and Holden, said they’d had an offer from a man on yer lots. He’d give you a thousand less than yer price, and they advised ya ta accept. Said it was the best you’d get this time of year. And then a fella, name’s Rawlins, called up and said he had a proposition ta make, but ya had to come ta terms before eleven o’clock tamarra, ur it was all off.”
“Thanks,” said Alan wearily without a change of expression; both messages had been like broadsides. “Just stop in at the restaurant and ask ‘em to send me a cup of coffee and a ham sandwich, won’t you? I haven’t time to go home just now.”
Then Alan climbed into his father’s desk chair and attacked the mail that had arrived. All but two of the letters were bills, and most of them asked for immediate payment. Why did everybody seem to be in need of money at once? The two that were not bills occupied him the rest of the evening, telephoning and telegraphing, trying to reach men who seemed to have hidden themselves beyond recall.
Alan also called his mother and found that his father was still under opiates, and the doctor felt that he would not be able to tell for several days yet just how severe the injuries were. He said he was still holding his own, however. Alan thought his mother’s voice sounded tired and anxious. She wanted to know how business was going and he tried to reassure her, but his voice almost broke.
It was growing dark in the store. The boy shoved the thick restaurant cup and saucer aside and flung his head down on his arms across the desk.
How hot and tired he was. How utterly he was failing in trying to take his father’s place in the store. And, out a few blocks away, his substitute for the desert was joyously preparing for the time of his life. Only another day and he would be away into a great world filled with wonderful experiences.
And only another day and the enemy would be upon himself and his father’s business, and the judge was still away. The judge was his only hope now. He knew not where else to turn. Tomorrow morning he would have that awful Rawlins to deal with, and what would be his proposition? If he only knew! If he only had someone to consult with! There would be some humiliating terms offered, of course. Oh, if he could take that infamous little Rawlins out behind the store and thrash him and set matters right! Perhaps he would, if things got pretty bad, anyway. Perhaps he would not be able to control his anger and would get into a fight, and then there would be a lawsuit in addition to all the other trouble. Or even something worse! Then what would Dad say?
He groaned softly as he thought of all the possibilities. Then suddenly the clock struck nine, and he realized that Bob had promised to meet him at the house. He must go back and look cheerful, and hear Bob talk eagerly of his plans.
Life was hard! Here was he bearing burdens he was not fit for, and missing the chance of a lifetime.
Alan reached for his hat, but as he did so, the telephone rang out sharply in the empty store. With a wild hope that this might be Judge Whiteley, Alan reached for the receiver.
But it was only Sherrill Washburn calling, in her capacity of president of the young people’s group in the church.
“Is that you, Alan?” The tired boy thought her voice sounded like cool, sweet petals, blowing in the breeze. “Your mother said I’d find you at the store. I’ve been thinking, Alan. You know that fund we have for Bibles? Why shouldn’t we give one to Robert Lincoln to take with him? Or do you think he would be offended? He’s never been to any of our meetings, nor been with our crowd very much. But I thought—somehow—we hadn’t ever tried very much. I thought—maybe—you could give it to him somehow. I wouldn’t like him to feel—we were—well—trying to missionarize him or anything! Do you think it would do, or not?”
“Sure!” said Alan heartily, albeit with the least twinge of jealousy, which he knew at once was beneath him. Now, if he had been the one who was going to the desert, Sherrill would be getting this Bible for him, and how wonderful it would be—whispered the tempter—to have a Bible like that to take out in the desert and read, and feel they were all praying—
“Sure!” said Alan again, recognizing the natural man cropping up and trying to grind it beneath his heel. “Make it a good one. I believe it will please him. I sure do. Can we get it in time? He leaves early in the morning, you know.”
“Yes,” said Sherrill eagerly, “we got two the last time, you remember, as premiums for those who passed the examinations in the Bible course, and Cameron went away before the contest ended and we had it left over.”
“Sure, I remember. Say! Those were Scofield Bibles, too, weren’t they? Boy! I’m glad about that, for I don’t think he knows the first thing about what the Bible means, and a Scofield Bible will be so helpful about understanding the dispensations and covenants and things like that. That was a great idea, Sherry.”
“Then you’ll give it to him?”
“Sure thing, Sherry. But not as a gift, you know. I’ll say it was a gift from the crowd. I’ll make him understand. A reminder of us all at home or something like that. I’ll give him that list of the Bible study we are all taking together. Haven’t you got an extra copy?”
“Oh, yes! That’s fine. Tell him to join our group in reading and then we can send him the examination slips every month. Tell him we want to count him as one of our group.”
“Sure!” said Alan. “That’s a great idea, Sherry! A sort of a binder to home. How about getting word around to the crowd and having them down to the train station in the morning? Just give him a little send-off. Do you think they would do it?”
“I think they would, Alan. I think that’s wonderful of you. May I tell them you asked it? They’ll—be a little surprised, you know— They’ve always considered you two were enemies.”
“I’d like them to know that we are not anymore,” said Alan gravely, setting his lips in a firm line that gave a very lovely look to his young face.
“All right, Alan,” said Sherrill with a lilt to her voice, “I’ll send the Bible right over to your house. Keith is going past there and he can leave it at the door without troubling anybody, can’t he? And I’ll begin calling up the bunch right away. Is it the eight-thirty train? All right. And we’ll have the farewell hymn ready, too. How’s that?”
“Okay. The very thing!” said Alan feeling a lump in his throat at the thought. Oh, why hadn’t he known Bob before? How wrong, how sinful it was to get angry at anyone—to judge anyone—to pick out any human soul and make powerless one’s influence toward him. Why had he never thought of that before?
Sherrill’s voice sang cheerfully over the wire, “That’s great of you, Alan! Simply great!”
“Nothing of the kind,” said the boy huskily, with a thrill of pleasure at her tone, nevertheless.
The musty old office looked almost glorified to his eyes as he hung up the receiver and looked about him. Well, at least if he could not go to