Читать книгу Through These Fires (Musaicum Romance Classics) - Grace Livingston Hill - Страница 3

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The sunset was startling that night, bursting angrily through ominous clouds that had seemed impenetrable all day, and fairly tearing them to inky tatters, letting the fire of evening blaze into a terror-stricken world sodden with grief and bewilderment. Like an indomitable flag of mingled vengeance and hope, it pierced the dome of heaven and waved courageously, a call, a summons across the thunderous sky and above a drab, discouraged world. It broke the leaden bars and threw down a challenge to disheartened, straggling fighters who had been brave that morning when the battle began, and who had gone on through a day of horror, seeing their comrades fall about them, facing a cruel foe, fighting on with failing strength, and in the face of what seemed hopeless odds.

And then that fire of glory burst through and flung its challenge, and the leaders seemed to gather courage from the flaming banner in the sky. Herding their scattered comrades together, they took new heart of hope, and turning, renewed the warfare more fiercely than before.

Benedict Barron was one of those discouraged fainting soldiers who had fought all day on very little food, and who more and more was feeling the hopelessness of what he was doing. What useless wasting of life and blood for a mere bare strip of land that didn't seem worth fighting for. And yet he had fought, and would continue to fight, he knew, as long as there was any strength left in him.

Mackenzie, their haggard-faced captain, drew them into a brief huddle and spoke a few low, desperate words, pointing toward that gray distance before them that looked so barren and worthless, so unworthy of struggle.

"Do you see that land ahead?" he asked his men, a fierce huskiness in his vibrant voice. "It looks gray and empty to us now, but it is the way to a great wealth of oil wells! It is the way to victory, for one side or the other. Which shall it be? Victory for us, or for our enemies? If the Germans get those oil wells they undoubtedly will win! We are trying to head them off. Are you game?"

There was a moment of dead silence while his words sank into the tired hearts of the exhausted men, as they looked at their captain's grim, determined face, and thrilled with the words he had spoken. Then those tired soldiers took a deep breath and brought forth a cheer, in which Victory echoed down the gray slopes toward the enemy, Victory for freedom! Not for the enemy! And it was Benedict Barron whose voice led the cheer, and beside him his comrade Sam Newlin took it up.

Oil wells down there in the gray darkness, banner of fire in the sky, lighting the way to victory. Yes, they would go, every one of those tired soldiers, even if it meant giving their lives in the effort. It was worth it. Never would they let the enemy have free access to all that oil. This was what they had left their homes and their dear ones to do, and they would do it, even unto death. Victory! On to Victory!

They plunged down toward the dim gray twilight ahead, Ben Barron's face alight from the brightness above him, his lips set, his gaze ahead, new strength pouring through his veins. The weariness of the day was forgotten. A new impetus had come, a reason for winning the victory. Something to be greatly desired, symbolized by that bright, arrogant banner of fire above them.

Into the dusk Ben Barron plunged with the flaming banner above, looking toward the land they must take and hold at all costs. The dying sun in its downward course shot vividly out with its great red eye, bloodshot, daring the men not to falter. Then suddenly it dropped into its deep blue shroud leaving only shreds of ragged gold as a hint of the glory that might be won. Afterward darkness! For even the edges of glory-gold were blotted out in the darkest night those men had ever known.

A great droning arose in the sky behind, and it seemed to Ben Barron that he was alone with all the responsibility resting on him. There were oncoming planes, an ominous, determined sound, their twinkling lights starring the heavens as if they had a right to be there, reminding one of satanic entrances: "I will be like the most High"—the arrogance of Lucifer.

The men groaned in spirit, and thrust forward. But suddenly came a sound of menace, and like bright, wicked stars, fire dropped from the skies, blazing up in wide fierce waves of flame sweeping before them, filling all the place through which they were supposed to pass.

Bewildered, they looked to their captain, hesitated an instant, until they heard his determined, husky voice ring out definitely:

"Press on!"

"Fire!" they breathed in a united voice of anguish.

"Press on!" came Captain Mackenzie's answer swiftly. "You must go through these fires! This land must be held at all costs!"

Afterward it came to Ben to wonder why. Oh, he knew the answer, the oil wells must be held. The enemy must not take them. But why did fires have to come and obstruct the way? It was hard enough before the fires came. How were they to go through fire? Where was God? Had He forgotten them? Why did He allow this fire to come? It seemed a strange thought to come to Ben Barron as he crept stealthily through the shadows into the realm of light where the enemies' guns could so easily be trained upon them. But at the time he was occupied with accomplishing this journey toward the fire, with the firm intention of going through it. There was a job to be done on the other side of this wall of fire, and he must do it!

And then there was the wall of fire, just ahead!

"Here she comes!" yelled Sam. "Let's go!"

Great tongues of flame, roaring and hissing and overhead falling flames! It seemed like the end. And yet Ben knew he must go through. Even if he died doing it, he must go. Those oil wells must be held. The Germans must not get them. Perhaps just his effort was needed for the victory. Perhaps if he failed others would fail also. The circle of defenders must not be broken! The strength of a chain was in its weakest link. He must not be that weakest link. His place in the formation must be steady, held to the end!

How hot the flames! How far that heat reached! He had to turn his face away from the scorch to rest his eyes, or they would not be able to see to go on. And the flaming fields ahead would soon burn over. He must creep through as soon as they were bearable. He must not be turned back nor halted by mere hot earth. It was night, and the wind was cold. They would soon cool off enough for him to go on.

These thoughts raced through his fevered brain, as he crept forward seeing ahead now beyond those dancing fires, the dark forms of other enemies, their guns surely aimed! He could hear the reverberations of their shots as they whistled past him. He had to creep along close to the ground to dodge those bullets.

It seemed an eternity that he was creeping on in the firelit darkness, pausing when more fire came down from above, to hide behind a chance rock, or a group of stark trees that had not been consumed, gasping in the interval to catch a breath that seemed to escape from his control.

At times there came the captain's voice, in odd places, at tense intervals, almost like the voice of God, and Ben's over-weary mind sometimes confused the two, so that they became convinced that it was God who was leading them on, speaking to them out of the fire.

Perhaps it was hunger that made his head feel so light, but he had not thought of food. There were pellets in his wallet that he could take for this, but he was too tired to make the effort to reach them. If only he might close his eyes and sleep for a moment! But there was the fire, and the order was heard again, "Forward!"

They must all pass through. There was no time to wait for the blistering ground to cool. They must pass through quickly. They had been taught their manner of procedure. Through this fire—and then the enemy beyond! There would be bullets. He could hear one singing close now! There would be another close behind that. Their spacing was easy to judge.

There! There it came. A stinging pain pierced his shoulder, and burned down his left arm like liquid fire. But he must not notice it. He was one of a unit. If any in their battalion failed, then others might fail. They must not fail! That rich oil country must be held at any cost. The captain's words seemed to still be on the air, close to his ear, though it was a long time since they had been spoken. But they rang in his heart clearly as at first. "Forward! Through these fires."

There came a moment with clear, ringing words of command when they struggled up to their feet and actually plunged through. The scorching heat! The roaring of the flames! The noise of planes overhead! The falling of more fire! All was confusion! Could they pass through?

Afterward there was fierce fighting. No time to think of wounds and the pain stinging down his arm. It was only a part of his job. He had to hold those oil wells!

The night was long, and there were more fires to cross. More fighting, the ground strewn with wounded and dying, nothing that one would want to remember if one ever got home. Home! Peace! Was there still such a place as home? Was there any peace anywhere?

A strange fleeting vision of a quiet morning, he on his way somewhere importantly, a young schoolboy in a world that still held joy. A little girl in a blue calico dress that matched her eyes, swinging on a gate as he passed. Just a little, little girl, swinging on a gate and giving him a shy smile as he passed. He didn't know the little girl. The family were newcomers in the neighborhood, but he smiled back and said, "Hello! Who are you?" And she had answered sweetly, "I'm Lexie." And he had laughed and said, "That's a cute name! Is it short for Lexicon?" But she had shaken her head and answered, "No. It's Alexia. Alexia Kendall," she replied in quite a reproving tone.

Strange that he should think of this now, so many years later, a brief detached picture of a child on a gate smiling, a cool morning with sunshine and birds, and a syringa bush near the little house that belonged to the midst of this scene of carnage, with the scorching smell of fire on his garments, and in his hair and eyebrows. Just a sweet little stranger in a quiet, bright morning with dew on the grass by the roadside, peace on the hills, and no walls of fire to cross! Strange! Ah! If he might just pause to think of that morning so long ago, it would rest him! But there were those wells, and more fire ahead, and the enemy, and overhead more planes! There came a flock of shells! The enemy again! Was he out of his head? This didn't seem real. Oh, why did these fires have to come? It was bad enough without them!

But now he was in the thick of the fight again, and his vision cleared. Strange how you could always go on when there was a need and you realized what it meant if you lost the fight! He must go on! Could he weather this awful heat again, with the pain in his shoulder to bear? Back there on that dewy morning going from his home to school, what would he have said if anyone had told him that this was what he had to do to prove his part in the righteousness of the world? Would he have dared to grow up and go on toward this?

But yes! He had to. A boy had to grow into a man. Did everyone have to go through a fire of some kind?

That little girl in the blue dress? Where was she? He had never seen her again since that morning. His parents had moved away from that town, and he had never gone back. Strange that he should remember her, a child. Even remember her name. Alexia Kendall! Would he ever see her again? And if he did, would he know her? Probably not. But if he ever came through this inferno and went back to his own land he would try to find her, and thank her for having come with that cool, happy memory of a little girl swinging on a gate, carefree and smiling. No wall of fire engulfing her! Oh no! God wouldn't ever let that happen to a pretty little thing like that. Little Alexia! She must be safe and happy. Why, that was why he had to win this war, to make the world safe for such little happy girls as that one! Of course! The very thought of it cooled and steadied his brain, kept his mind sane.

There! There came another shower of fire! Fire and dew side by side in his mind. Oh, these were fantastic thoughts! Was he going out of his head again? Oh, for a drop of that dew on the grass, that morning so long ago!

"If I ever get through I'll thank her, if I can find her!" he promised himself. "I'll pay tribute to her for helping me think this thing through."

Halfway round the earth, Alexia stood in a doorway, holding a telegram in her trembling hand, a cold tremor running over her as she read.

In the house, the same little house with the white fence where she had swung on the gate so many years ago, her bags were all packed to go back to college for her final term, with a delightful, important defense job promised her as soon as she was graduated.

And now here came this telegram right out of the blue, as it were, to hinder all her plans and tie her down to an intolerable existence with no outlook of relief ahead! This message might be laying the burden of a lifetime job on her slender shoulders. It was unthinkable! This couldn't be happening to her after she had worked so hard to get to the place she had reached.

Alexia's father had died a year after she had swung joyously on the gate that spring morning when Benedict Barron had passed by and seen her. But Alexia's mother had worked hard, a little sewing, a little catering, an occasional story or article written in the small hours of the night when her body was weary, but which brought in a small wage, and she had kept her little family together.

The family consisted of the two little girls. One a young stepdaughter a couple of years older than Lexie, and very badly spoiled by an old aunt who had had charge of her since her own mother had died and until her father married again.

It would have been easier for the mother after her husband's death, if this stepdaughter could have gone back to the aunt who had spoiled her and set her young feet in the wrong, selfish way. But the old aunt had died before the father, and there was no one else to care or to come to the rescue, so Alexia's mother did her brave best to teach the other girl to love her, to love her little sister, and to be less self-centered. She worked on, keeping a happy home behind the white gate, and putting away a little here, a little there, for the education she meant for both girls to have. Elaine was as well as her own little girl.

But Elaine was not bent on studies. She skimmed through three years of high school carrying on a lively flirtation with every boy in the grade, and cutting the rules of the institution right and left. Mrs. Kendall often had to go up to the school to meet with the principal and promise to do her best to make Elaine see the world as it was, and not as she wished it to be. And so with many a heartbreak and sigh, with tears of discouragement and prayers for patience, she dragged Elaine through high school by force, as it were, and landed her in a respectable college for young women where the mother hoped she would do better. But Elaine, during the latter half of her first year in college, ran away with a handsome boy from a boys' college not many miles away, and got married. So for a time the mother had only one girl to look after, and the way seemed a little easier. The boy who had married Elaine was the son of wealthy parents, and Mrs. Kendall hoped that at last Elaine would settle down and be happy under ideal circumstances where she could have all the luxury that her lazy little soul desired, and the way would be open for herself to have a little peace.

But they soon found out that they were by no means rid of Elaine. Again and again there would be trouble, and Elaine would come back plaintively to her long-suffering stepmother for help to settle her difficulties. The wealthy parents had not taken a liking to Elaine, in spite of her beauty and grace, and they soon discovered her tricky ways of procuring money from them that they would not have chosen to give. Again and again the stepmother would have to sacrifice something she needed, or something she had hoped to get Alexia, in order to cover some of the other girl's indiscretions. It ended finally in a sharp quarrel and a quick divorce, which not only failed to teach the selfish girl a lesson but also left her bitter and exceedingly hard to live with.

She had come back to her stepmother, of course, utterly refusing to return to her studies. She spent her time bewailing her fate and sulking in bitterness, unable to see that it was all her own fault.

All this had made a great part of Alexia's school days most unhappy. Elaine would sulk and weep and blame them all, and there would be periods of deep gloom in the little house behind the white gate where Lexie used to swing so cheerfully. So, amid battle after battle life went on until Lexie was in high school. Then, wonder of wonders, Elaine fell in love with a poor young man, and in spite of all the worldly wisdom they offered her to show her how this time she would not have money to ease the burdens of life, she married him. She wouldn't believe that they would be poor. She said Richard Carnell was brilliant and would soon be making money enough, and anyway she loved him, and off she went to the far west.

So Lexie went on in high school in peace, with sometimes a really new dress all her own and not one made over from one of Elaine's. Mrs. Kendall settled down to work harder than ever to save to put her girl through college.

It was about the time that Elaine's first baby arrived, when Lexie was still in her second year at high school, that she took to writing her stepmother again in high, scrawling letters asking to borrow money. There was always a plausible tale of ill luck and a plea of ill health on her part that made it necessary for her to hire a servant, sometimes two, and she didn't like to ask Dick for the extra money. He was so sweet and generous to her. "And, Mother," she added naively, "wasn't there some money my father left that rightly belongs to me anyway?"

There wasn't, but the stepmother sent her a small amount of money to help out a little, realizing that it would not be the last time this request would be made. She also told her plainly that her father had left no money at all. His business had failed just before his last illness, and she herself had had to get a job and work hard to make both ends meet ever since.

The next time Elaine wrote she said that she distinctly remembered her father telling her own mother before she died that their child would never be in need, that he had taken care of that and put away a sufficient sum to keep her in comfort for years.

As Elaine was between two and a half and three years old when her own mother died, that seemed a rather fantastic story, but Mrs. Kendall had learned long ago not to expect sane logic nor absolute accuracy from Elaine in her statements, and she had patiently let it go.

Lexie, as she grew older and came to know the state of things fully, was very indignant at the stepsister who had darkened the sunshine in her young life time after time, and one day when she was in her second year of college, she brought the subject out in the open, telling her mother that she thought the time had come to let Elaine understand all that she had done for her through the years and how she had actually gone without necessities to please the girl's whims. Elaine had a husband now and a home of her own. Perhaps it was only a rented house, but her husband was making enough money to enable her to live comfortably, and Elaine had no right to try and get money from them any longer. Suppose Elaine did have three children, she had two servants to help her now, didn't she? Elaine would complain of course, she had always done that, and say she was sick and miserable. But she went out a great deal, belonged to bridge clubs and things that cost money and took time and strength. Why should her stepmother have to sacrifice to help out every time Elaine wanted to give a party or buy a new dress? Oh, Lexie was beginning to see things very straight then, and though she was born with a sweet, generous nature, she couldn't bear to see her dear mother taken advantage of by a selfish girl who was never grateful for anything that was done for her.

But Mrs. Kendall, though she acknowledged that there was a great deal of truth in what her daughter said, told Lexie that she felt an obligation toward Elaine because of a promise she had made Elaine's father before he died. He had been greatly troubled about Elaine, convinced that he had been to blame for leaving her so long with the old aunt who had spoiled her. He implored his wife to look after her as if she were her own, and she had promised she would. Furthermore she had begged Lexie to try to feel toward Elaine as if she were her own sister, and to be kind and considerate of her needs, even if she, the mother, should be taken away. So with tears Lexie had kissed her mother, and promised, "Of course, Mother dear. I'll do everything I can for her. If she would only let you alone, though, and not be continually implying that you were using or hiding money of hers."

Lexie's mother died during Lexie's third year of college. Elaine sent a telegram of condolence, and regretted that she could not come East for the funeral because of ill health and lack of funds for the journey.

This ended the pleas for money for the time being, and poor Lexie had to bear her sorrow and the heavy burdens that fell upon her young shoulders alone. Though there was no heartbreak for her in the fact of Elaine's absence. Elaine had never been a comfortable member of the family to have around.

Elaine sent brief, scant letters that harped continually on her own ill health as well as the amount of work there was connected with a family of children, especially for a sick mother, and one whose social duties were essential for her husband's business success.

Lexie had been more than usually busy of course, since her mother's death, and she had taken very little time to reply at length to these scattered letters. Her attention was more than full with her examinations and arranging for a war job after graduation. If she thought of Elaine at all, it was to be thankful that she seemed to have a good husband and was fully occupied in a far corner of the country where she was not likely to appear on the scene.

Lexie had come back during vacation to attend to some business connected with the little home that her mother had left free from debt. She had felt it should be rented, or perhaps sold, though she shrank from giving it up. But she had put away a great many of her small treasures, and arranged everything so that the house could be rented if a tenant appeared. Now she was about to return to her college for the final term. Her train would leave that evening, and her bags were packed and ready. She was about to eat the simple lunch of scrambled eggs, bread and butter, and milk that she had but just prepared and set on the corner of the kitchen table when the doorbell rang and the telegram arrived. The telegram was from Elaine!

Lexie stood in the open doorway shivering in the cold and read it, taking in the full import of each typewritten word and letting them beat in upon her heart like giant blows. Strangely it came to her as she read what her mother before her must have felt whenever Elaine had launched one of her drives for help. Only her mother had never let it be known how she felt. For the sake of the love she bore her husband and the promise she had made at his deathbed, she had borne it all sweetly. And now it was her turn, and her mother had expected her to do the same. But this was appalling! This was more than even Mother would have anticipated.

Then she read the telegram again.

"Dick in the Army fighting overseas. Reported missing in action. Probably dead.

I am coming home with the children.

Have been quite ill. Have rooms ready.

Am bringing a nurse. Will reach the city five thirty P.M. Meet train with comfortable car.

Elaine"

Lexie grew weak all over and, turning, tottered into the house closing the door behind her. She went into the dining room and dropped down into a chair beside that lunch she had not eaten, laying her head down on her folded arms on the corner of the table, her heart crying out in discouragement. Now what was she to do? How like Elaine to spring a thing like this on her without warning. Giving orders as if she were a rich woman! Sending her word at the last minute so that it would be impossible to stop her.

Lexie felt her head and looked at her watch. Could she possibly send a telegram to the train and stop her? Turn her back? Tell her she was about to leave for college? Her own train left at two thirty. There was no other train that night. What if she were to pay no attention to the telegram? Just let Elaine come on with her nurse and her three children and see what she had done! It was time she had a good lesson of course. She simply couldn't expect her sister to take over the burden of her life this way.

On the other hand, there was her promise to her mother, and in fact, what would Elaine do if she arrived and found no car waiting, no house open, no key to open it?

Well, she had a nurse with her, let them go to a hotel!

But suppose she had no money? Still, she must have some money or she could not have bought her tickets and started. She couldn't have afforded a nurse. But then, of course, Elaine never bothered about affording anything. She always got what she wanted first and let somebody else worry about paying for it.

But how did Elaine happen to telegraph to her here? Ah! She had not told her sister that she was expecting to go back to college during the midyear vacation and do a little studying while things were quiet. Elaine expected her to be here in the home of course, during holidays, as she invariably had been previously. If she had carried out her plans and that telegram had been a couple of hours later in arriving, she would have been gone and the telegram would not have found her. What then would have happened to Elaine? Well, why not go and let happen what would happen? Surely Elaine would find some way of taking care of her children. She couldn't exactly come down upon her at college. She wouldn't know where she had gone either. Why not go?

It must have been five minutes that Lexie sat with her forehead down upon her folded hands trying to think this thing through. The same old fight that had shadowed all her life thus far! Was it going on to the end for her as it had gone on for her mother? Or should she make a stand now and stop it?

And then would come the thought that Elaine seemed to be in real trouble now, her husband probably dead, herself sick—and very likely she really was! It didn't take much to make Elaine sick when things didn't happen her way. And those three children! She couldn't let them suffer because they happened to have an insufferable mother! She had never seen those three children, but children were always pathetic if they were in trouble! Oh, what should she do?

Here she was ready to leave, just time to eat those cold scrambled eggs that had been so nice and hot when that telegram arrived. Her house was all ready either to close for the present or to rent if a tenant came, her things packed away under lock and key in the attic, and all her arrangements for the rest of the college year made. There was still time to take a taxi to the North Station and get her train before that western train arrived with the onslaught of the enemy, and yet she wasn't going to have the nerve to do it! She felt it in her heart behind all her indignation and bitter disappointment that she wasn't going to leave Elaine in a tight spot. She had been brought up a lady, and she couldn't do it. She had been taught to give even a little more than was asked, and she was going to go on doing it the rest of her life… maybe.

But no! She wouldn't! She mustn't! She would just stay long enough to have a showdown with her sister. She would make her understand that there was no money anywhere and the job she had secured was on condition that she had finished her college course. She must do that or her whole life would suffer. She would let Elaine understand that she could not shoulder the burden of her family. She would stay long enough for that. It was what her mother probably should have done, and now it was her duty. She would try to be kind and sympathetic with Elaine in her sorrow, and she would try to help her back to a degree of health, but then she would make her understand that it was only right she should get a job herself and support her children. Yes, she would do that! She would not weaken. She had a right and a responsibility to think of herself and her own career, too. Of course even if she had to help Elaine financially, it was essential that she finish her course and get ready to earn as much as possible for them all. Yes, that was what she would do!

And now, just how should she go about all this? Shouldn't she begin at once to be firm with Elaine? To let her understand that she couldn't afford taxis and cars? What ought she to do? Wire the train that Elaine must get a taxi, or just not make any reply at all? And how should she prepare for this unexpected invasion? For, indeed, it seemed to her as she lifted tear-filled eyes and looked about the room, like an invasion of an enemy.

She felt condemned as the thought framed itself into words in her mind, but she had to accept the way she felt about it. And thinking back over the years and her mother's words from time to time, she knew this was something her mother would have told her she must do as far as was possible. Perhaps it would not turn out to be as bad as it promised. Perhaps it was only for a brief space while Elaine adjusted herself to her circumstances, but whatever it was, it was something that her mother would have expected her to do, something that perhaps God expected her to do.

Not that Lexie had ever thought much about God except in a faraway, general way, but somewhere there was a Power that was commanding her. It was as if there was an ordeal ahead that challenged her. Why? Was it right she should go? It was like a wall of fire before her, through which she must pass, and there was now no longer a question whether she would go. She knew she would. The only thing was to work out just what was the wisest way to do it.

With her eyes shut tight to force back the two tears that persisted in coming into them, Lexie kept her face down and pressed her temples to try and think. Whatever she was going to do for the winter, it was now, to-day, that she had to settle. She wasn't going to run away from the message that had come at this last minute. If this was an emergency, and a time of grief—and obviously it was—just common decency required that she do something about it. Therefore she must stay here in the house until Elaine came, and they could talk it out. She must see if her sister was really sick, sicker than she used to be sometimes when she just didn't want to go places and do things that seemed to be her duty. If she was really sick, of course, Lexie must stay and do something about it until some other arrangement could be made, sometime, somewhere. That could be held in abeyance until Elaine was here.

Next, the house must be put in order to accommodate the oncoming guests, or else there must be some room or rooms hired somewhere to accommodate them. Undoubtedly the home would be the cheapest arrangement, unless it might open the way for Elaine to take too much for granted. But there again she must wait until she knew the exact situation. And last, but by no means the least important, was the matter of transportation from the city for an invalid, or a supposed invalid. But that, too, would have to be accepted as a fact until the contrary was proven. And now she began to see how hard her mother's way must have been. Must she go to the expense of going down to the city after them? There was much to be done in the house to make it habitable if they were coming here. She would have no time to do it if she went to the city.

What she finally did was to run out to a public telephone and call up the Traveler's Aid at the city station, asking the representative to meet the train and arrange for whatever way of conveyance she felt was necessary, giving a message that she was unable to meet the train herself. She made it plain that none of them had much money to spend for anything that was not a necessity, and unless the invalid felt she could afford taxis, and was utterly unable to travel otherwise, please make some other arrangement.

The woman who answered her call was a sensible person with a voice of understanding and seemed to take in the situation thoroughly. When Lexie came out of the telephone booth there was a relieved feeling in her mind and less trouble in her eyes. At least she had provided a way of transportation, and that matter was disposed of without her having to go into the city. Now she would be able to get a bed ready for Elaine. Even if she wasn't going to stay in the house all night, there would have to be a suitable bed for her to lie down on as soon as she arrived—if she really was sick. Somehow Lexie was more and more uncertain about that. She had known Elaine so long and so well. But she climbed to the well-ordered attic, where everything was put away carefully, and searched out blankets, pillows, sheets and pillowcases, a few towels, and some soap. These would be necessities at once of course.

As she worked, her mind was busy thinking about a most uncertain future. Trying to plan for a way ahead in which her most unwilling feet must go. Some urge within her soul forbade that she shrink back and shirk the necessity.

Yet she was not the only one in the world who had trouble.