Not My Will and The Light in My Window (39 page)

“Yet I keep forgetting. I think it would work better if I took care of you and you took care of me. I could be
much
more strict with you than with myself. I have
so
much patience with me.”

“OK. It’s a bargain. But you’ll have to mind me, young lady, if you expect any cooperation from me.”

“I like minding you, and how I shall enjoy bossing you! I always did long to get a Ph.D. in my power and put him through his paces!”

“At your service, madam. What’s the first order?”

“Get my green dress and white sandals, and we’ll go and find Chad. I feel like a new woman, truly I do. And I want to take you to the kitchen and introduce you properly to Hope Thompson.”

As they crossed the hall, Hope was coming from her room and stopped to express her pleasure at seeing Eleanor out of her room.

“You’re a most efficient nurse, Hope. I am feeling quite well, really I am. I think that just knowing you were here in charge of the house made me able to rest.”

“I’m glad you are better, Mrs. King,” said Hope diffidently. “I haven’t been able to accomplish much, for I didn’t know how to start in a strange place.”

“That’s all right. We’ll go at things in earnest tomorrow. Now I want you to meet my husband who returned rather unexpectedly just in time to complete my cure. I feel able to take up life’s duties again with him here to back me up.”

“I owe you a debt of gratitude, Miss Thompson,” said Philip with a smile. “You have already proved yourself a friend in need. And you are definitely an answer to prayer. I was asking God to take care of Len for me, and He sent you to do it.”

“I, too, was praying,” said Eleanor. “I was asking God for a helper who could fit into the place here, and He sent you for that.”

Hope’s face flushed as she listened, and her voice quivered as she said, “I asked Him to find me a place today. And He sent me here.”

“Then we must all thank Him for His goodness and for His loving provision for our needs. I know we will be—”

The screen door slammed, and a small form came flying down the hall. “Daddy! Oh, Daddy! You’re home!”

Only one accustomed to such rushes could have withstood the impact, but Philip King met it halfway, and the man and boy embraced in a way that made Hope’s throat tighten. It had been so long since anyone had loved her that way.

“You two hoodlums will wreck this small cottage if you don’t behave,” said a laughing voice as Billy appeared in the door. “Well, Len, you had one rapid recovery. Phil should give
up the ministry and hang up his shingle, “Philip King, M.D. Extraordinaire.”

Eleanor laughed and turned to the romping pair. Chad was climbing up his father’s body and soon attained a perch on the broad shoulders.

“Yes, it was a real tonic to have him come tiptoeing into my room.”

“Hmm! I think you should be ashamed to let him see you so ill. You were out of bounds, and you know it.”

“Yes, I do know it, Billy. I can manage all the rest of you better than I can handle Eleanor King. She is still a willful child at times. But the Lord is patient, and Phil has undertaken my training so—”

“So, you’ll be worse than ever. Whatever you desire will be his law. Oh, if I could only find me a man so subservient!”

“If you ever do, please give him my sympathy,” said Phil, joining the group. “Any man that pledges himself to be
your
slave will lead a rugged existence.”

“Oh, won’t he though?” chuckled Billy. “However, I’ll make him so happy he’ll not mind it. In fact, he’ll love it. If you know of any man who’d like the job, lead me to him.”

Then with a quick change of mood, she said, “I really hate to take you away from Len now, Phil, but I do need help. There’s trouble down at Hagan’s again—worse than ever before. I was down a while ago, but it’s beyond me. It needs a man. Len may be glad to see you back, but her joy is as nothing compared to mine.”

So Billy and Dr. King went off together, and Eleanor turned back to the kitchen with Hope.

T
hat evening after she was finished with the dishes, Hope wandered out onto the big front porch. From the swing at one end Eleanor called to her. “Bring a chair over here Hope, and let’s get acquainted. Have you been wondering just what kind of queer institution you’ve landed in?”

“Well, yes, I have wondered a bit,” answered Hope, settling herself in an old willow rocker. “But I’m glad to have found so pleasant a place—”

She almost added a phrase that would have told how temporary she considered the work. But it might be best to keep that to herself, so she said nothing further.

“We are glad to have found you, I assure you,” said Eleanor. “You see, I help so much with the work at the Institute that I don’t have much time for housework. Then when we moved into this great place I had to accept the fact that I could not keep it going alone. What a lot of servants it must have taken to keep it up when it was the showplace of the city!”

“Was it ever a private home?”

“Oh, yes. When that old church was new, this part of the city was the stylish ‘West Side.’ This house was built in that period. The owner boasted that he had built a home that would last for hundreds of years. And he had. Barring earthquakes or atom bombs, this house will stand when many of the modern skyscrapers have crumbled.”

“But what became of the man?” asked Hope. “Did he live here alone, or did he have a family?”

“Oh, it was a large family. It was fashionable in the eighties to have six or eight children, even in wealthy families. Now such luxuries are afforded only by the poor. The Warwicks have all left the city, I believe. The neighborhood deteriorated so greatly that they all moved away long ago. ‘So passes the glory of earth.’ I used to be able to say that in Latin, but my Latin also passes. For years the family held this property, thinking that the district might come back to somewhat of its former glory. When the parents died, the children wanted to sell but held it at an exorbitant price. Then they quarreled and could reach no terms among themselves, and by that time the place was so shabby and so old-fashioned that it would have cost a small fortune to modernize it. No one with money enough to do that would dream of locating in this neighborhood. Several industrial concerns talked of buying and wrecking it so that the site could be used for a factory. But the cost of razing it was prohibitive, and there were plenty of other sites available.

“I learned all this historical data from the real estate man, by the way. So the old place sat here in its solitary grandeur with its lovely garden getting wilder every year. When we came to the Institute a year ago we could not find a place to live. We had an apartment at the college where my husband teaches several hours a week. But that was an hour’s ride away, and the distance was a great handicap. One day Billy’s dad came down here and saw this house and was inspired with the idea of buying it for an annex to the Institute. The rest of the trustees approved, and so here we are. It’s large enough for all the workers we ever expect to have, and Phil says we could make a hospital of the two top floors. He was joking, of course, but this community could surely use a hospital.”

“You don’t have the entire house furnished, do you?”

“Indeed not! Only the first floor. It is quite an odd and varied collection of furniture at that. The furniture we had in a six-room apartment is entirely inadequate here. Our bedroom isn’t bad, for, in addition to our suite, we put in two easy chairs and Phil’s desk and file cabinet. In that way we filled most of the corners, though there’s still plenty of space as you must have observed.
Chad’s room was no problem. It apparently had been a library, for there are many built-in bookcases. They are already filled with the interesting junk a little boy collects, and his trains and fire engines and trucks and various things he has under construction fill the rest of the room. But the dining room is so huge that our furniture looked pitiful in it, so we are eating in the old conservatory. It is lovely in this hot weather. I hope to get a nice collection of plants from Billy’s mother and mine and make it really pretty again before winter comes. We’ll need all the beauty we can find when winter comes to Sherman Street.”

“I could get you some nice clippings from my grandmother. She likes to share her plants, and she has some unusually pretty ones.”

“Grand! We’ll have a real greenhouse in time. But, oh, the living room! Have you seen that, Hope?”

“No, I’ve not been in the front part of the house at all.”

“I suppose I should not call it a living room, for it very evidently was meant for a ballroom. Our bedroom and Chad’s were the family rooms. That monstrous front room will take your breath away. We have our living room furniture in it, and it looks ridiculous. Our twelve-by-fifteen rug is only a mat in front of the fireplace. The davenport, which was too large for our apartment, seems like doll furniture. Billy says we will have to install a telephone system between the two ends of the room.
Nobody
could live in that place and be comfortable.”

Hope glanced toward the windows behind her, but the great room was dark and she could not see inside.

Eleanor went on, “Since I’ve been lying here waiting for Phil to come home I’ve rearranged it all. I’m not going to
try
to live in that barn of a room! We will continue to eat in the conservatory and use the dining room for a living room. That coliseum can be kept for the times we want to give parties for our Institute friends.”

“What coliseum? Have you taken over another place? Is this one already too small?” Billy dropped an armload of books on the top step and perched on the porch rail beside the swing.

“No,” laughed Eleanor, “I was just giving an appropriate name to the living room. Billy, I shan’t even try to make that
room livable. I’m going to save it for an auditorium, and we will live in the dining room. It’s much more homelike.”

“H’m … perhaps you’re right. It will save a lot of steps too. And ladies, steps are worth saving! I’m sure I’ve walked miles today. My feet feel like baked hams!”

She gave a kick and one shoe flew off. The other followed, and she sighed in relief. Then her face sobered. “Dan Hagan’s in trouble with the police again. Mary and Johnny are afraid it’s something serious this time. Phil is still down there.”

“Oh, poor Mary! Just when she thought he was doing so nicely.”

“And poor Johnny. He says if his dad has to go back to prison he’ll run away.”

“Maybe Phil can hold Johnny even if Dan seems to be beyond help. Johnny is like his mother, and she is a rare soul.”

Hope listened to the talk and learned much of the work that went on in this interesting place. She heard of Rita DeSilva who was learning to walk again after a siege of polio, of Jackie Kelly who was in danger of being expelled from school, of little Julie who wanted to become a doctor because there were so many sick babies all about, of the dozen tots that Billy and another girl had taken to the forest preserve the day before, and somewhat of the hopes and dreams these busy people had for the Institute.

Billy retrieved her shoes and books, and after insisting that Eleanor “take it easy,” went off in the roadster that had been parked in the drive. Hope slipped away, thinking that Eleanor was asleep. Outside the high iron fence the life of the neighborhood went on in noise and clamor. As Eleanor listened, her heart swelled with a realization of the greatness of the task that was theirs. Sin and suffering, dirt and disease all cried out the need for help. Nothing but Christ could avail for this sore neighborhood, and to give Him to these souls was the purpose for which Henderson Institute was founded.

The night settled down, and the stars came out in the blue sky. In the trees and shrubs the katydids and locusts made their busy noises, and listening to them Eleanor could imagine herself out in the country away from the sordidness of Sherman Street.
She felt a surge of thankfulness that God had provided this oasis of green grass and trees among the factories and slums about them. Life would be much more pleasant and their work more effective because of this old house. When she had come here with Phil from her country home, it had taken all the consecration and determination of which she was capable to keep up her courage at the thought of living in any of the sordid dwellings hereabout. Then, unexpectedly, God had sent this house, which seemed to have limitless possibilities for both residence and work. The trees and shrubs had grown thick during the years that the house had stood unoccupied, and even the bold youth of the neighborhood had not been able to scale the tall fence and invade the privacy of the garden. So the old mansion had gradually become almost hidden by the encroaching greenery. It would take a great deal of work to clear the walks and trim the shrubs, but Eleanor hoped that another summer would make a vast difference in the place. As she swayed to and fro in the swing that Phil had discovered in the attic, she seemed to hear the happy voices of little children who should learn for the first time in their lives the feeling of soft earth and green grass on their bare feet. She saw, in fancy, the ecstatic faces of the little ones who should, in this place, enter into childhood’s birthright of fellowship with flowers and birds.

Philip’s step on the walk broke into her reverie.

“Come here to the swing, Phil. It’s too hot to go inside.” She sat up and made room for him beside her. He dropped down with a tired sigh.

“What a day, oh, what a day!”

“I know it has been hard, dear. I feel ashamed to have taken it so easy while you were carrying so heavy a load.”

“It wasn’t the
size
of the load that made it burdensome. It was the quality of it. Sin and shame and poverty and ignorance and sorrow! And we can do so little to help.”

His voice broke from weariness and emotion, and Eleanor’s hand gave his a sympathetic squeeze. These two were carrying this load together, and it needed no words to remind him of it.

“Can you move down to that end and let me stretch out with my head in your lap? Oh—that’s great! You’re cool and
sweet and all that’s desirable, Len. You don’t know what it means to me to have you here to come home to.”