Part 23 (2/2)

She had intended only a smiling leave-taking of the children, but they looked so pretty, and were regarding her with such an expression of shy, pleased interest, that she acted on her impulse and kissed them both. ”I don't often meet such kissable children,” she said, with a bright flush, ”and I couldn't resist the temptation.”

The room seemed lighter the rest of the day for her visit. If she had kissed the children out of policy Mrs. Jocelyn would have been resentfully aware of the fact; but they were ”kissable” children, and no one knew it better than the fond mother, who was won completely by the spontaneity of the act.

”Millie, I think I'd go to her church, even if Mr. Woolling were the minister,” she said, with her sweet laugh.

”Soft-hearted little mother!” cried Mildred gayly; ”if people only knew it, you have one very vulnerable side. That was a master-stroke on the part of Miss Wetheridge.”

”She didn't mean it as such, and if some good people had kissed the children I'd have washed their faces as soon as they had gone.

The visit has done YOU good, too, Millie.”

”Well, I admit it has. It was nice to see and hear one of our own people, and to feel that we were not separated by an impa.s.sable gulf. To tell the truth, I feel the need of something outside of this old house. I am beginning to mope and brood. I fear it will be some time before the way opens back to our former life, and one grows sickly if one lives too long in the shade. I COULD work with such a girl as that, for she wouldn't humiliate me. See, her card shows that she lives on Fifth Avenue. If SHE can work in a mission chapel, I can, especially since she is willing to touch me with her glove off,” she concluded, with a significant smile.

As the evening grew shadowy Mildred took the children out for their walk, and, prompted by considerable curiosity, she led the way to Fifth Avenue, and pa.s.sed the door on which was inscribed the number printed on Miss Wetheridge's card. The mansion was as stately and gave as much evidence of wealth as Mrs. Arnold's home. At this moment a handsome carriage drew up to the sidewalk, and Mildred, turning, blushed vividly as she met the eyes of her new acquaintance, who, accompanied by a fas.h.i.+onably-attired young man, had evidently been out to drive. Mildred felt that she had no right to claim recognition, for a young woman making mission calls in her ”district”

and the same young lady on Fifth Avenue with her finance, very probably, might be, and often are, two very distinct persons. The girl was about to pa.s.s on with downcast eyes and a hot face, feeling that her curiosity had been well punished. But she had not taken three steps before a pleasant voice said at her side, ”Miss Jocelyn, what have I done that you won't speak to me? This is my home, and I hope you will come and see me some time.”

Mildred looked at the speaker searchingly for a moment, and then said, in a low tone and with tearful eyes, ”May you never exchange a home like this, Miss Wetheridge, for one like mine.”

”Should it be my fortune to do so--and why may it not?--I hope I may accept of my lot with your courage, Miss Jocelyn, and give to my humbler home the same impress of womanly refinement that you have imparted to yours. Believe me, I respected you and your mother thoroughly the moment I crossed your threshold.”

”I will do whatever you wish me to do,” was her relevant, although seemingly irrelevant, reply.

”That's a very big promise,” said Miss Wetheridge vivaciously; ”we will shake hands to bind the compact,” and her attendant raised his hat as politely as he would to any of his companion's friends.

Mildred went home with the feeling that the leaden monotony of her life was broken. The hand of genuine Christian sympathy, not charity or patronage, had been reached across the chasm of her poverty, and by it she justly hoped that she might be led into new relations that would bring light and color into her shadowed experience.

With her mother and Belle she went to the chapel on the following Sunday afternoon, and found her new friend on the watch for them.

The building was plain but substantial, and the audience-room large and cheerful looking. Mr. Woolling was, in truth, not the type of the tall, rugged-featured man who sat on the platform pulpit, and Mildred, at first, was not prepossessed in his favor, but as he rose and began to speak she felt the magnetism of a large heart and brain; and when he began to preach she found herself yielding to the power of manly Christian thought, expressed in honest Saxon words devoid of any trace of affectation, scholasticism, and set phraseology. He spoke as any sensible, practical man would speak concerning a subject in which he believed thoroughly and was deeply interested, and he never once gave the impression that he was ”delivering a sermon” which was foreordained to be delivered at that hour. It was a message rather than a sermon, a sincere effort to make the people understand just what G.o.d wished them to know concerning the truth under consideration, and especially what they were to do in view of it. The young girl soon reached the conclusion that the religion taught in this chapel was not something fas.h.i.+oned to suit the world, but a controlling principle that brought the rich and poor together in their obedience to Him whose perfect life will ever be the law of the Christian Church. The attention of even mercurial Belle was obtained and held, and at the close of the address she whispered, ”Millie, that man talks right to one, and not fifty miles over your head. I'll come here every Sunday if you will.”

After the benediction the Rev. Mr. Wentworth came down from the pulpit--not in a bustling, favor-currying style, but with a grave, kindly manner--to speak to those who wished to see him. When he at last reached Mildred, she felt him looking at her in a way that proved he was not scattering his friendly words as a handful of coin is thrown promiscuously to the poor. He was giving thought to her character and need; he was exercising his invaluable but lamentably rare gift of tact in judging how he should address these ”new people” of whom Miss Wetheridge had spoken. His words were few and simple, but he made Mrs. Jocelyn and Mildred feel that his interest in them was not official, but genuine, Christian, and appreciative.

Belle very naturally shrank into the background. Her acquaintance with clergymen was not extensive, nor would it, I fear, ever have been increased by any efforts of her own; therefore it was with some trepidation that she saw Mr. Wentworth giving her an occasional side glance while talking to her mother. She was about to bow very formally when introduced, but a smile broke over the man's rugged features like a glow of suns.h.i.+ne, as he held out his hand and said, ”Miss Belle, I know you and I would be good friends if we had a chance.”

The girl's impulsive nature responded as if touched by an electric spark, and with her usual directness the words in her mind were spoken. ”I like you already,” she said.

”The liking is mutual then,” was Mr. Wentworth's laughing reply; ”I'm coming to see you.”

”But, sir,” stammered the honest child, ”I'm not good like my sister.”

The clergyman now laughed heartily. ”All the more reason I should come,” he said.

”Well, then, please come in the evening, for I wouldn't miss your visit for the world.”

”I certainly shall,” and he named an evening early in the week; ”and now,” he resumed, ”my friend Miss Wetheridge here has informed me of the conditions on which you have visited our chapel. We propose to carry them out in good faith, and not put any constraint upon you beyond a cordial invitation to cast your lot with us. It's a great thing to have a church home. You need not feel that you must decide at once, but come again and again, and perhaps by and by you will have a home feeling here.”

”I'm coming whether the rest do or not,” Belle remarked emphatically, and Mr. Wentworth gave her a humorous look which completed the conquest of her heart.

”Miss Wetheridge knows that my decision was already made,” said Mildred quietly, with an intelligent glance toward her friend; ”and if there is any very, very simple work that I can do, I shall feel it a privilege to do the best I can.”

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