Not My Will and The Light in My Window (51 page)

Katie and Tom Berg come next. Tom doesn’t work here regularly—just helps evenings and weekends because he wants to. Katie does all the laundry and cleaning, and that’s plenty, I assure you. I wish Jack and Judy could see our Palace. No joking, it has twenty-eight rooms! Katie and Tom have a nice apartment in the basement. It has been quite a revelation to me to see this place and realize how such folks as the Warwicks lived in the good old days when coal was three dollars a ton and hired girls worked for ten dollars a month. It must have taken an army of help to keep this place polished. Mahogany stairs down to the basement and hardwood floors in what Grandpa would call the “cellar.” Katie works full time, Tom puts in about ten hours a week, and all the rest of us chase dirt in our spare moments, and we never catch up!

I suppose Stanley Dykstra is next in line. He is the newest worker, having been here only since Thanksgiving. He is a long drink of water if there ever was one! Six foot two, and so thin and lanky that he doesn’t cast a respectable shadow. I
think
he is engaged to Billy, but I’m not sure. At first I didn’t like him, partly because I do so much want Billy to marry Dr. Ben, and partly because I had an unreasonable prejudice against him. Since I’ve become better acquainted with him, I’ve learned to like him immensely. If I had had a big brother I would feel toward him as I do toward Stan. He is a tease, but I can take teasing so we get along fine. Sometimes I feel that he isn’t quite up to the spiritual level of the Kings and Billy and Dr. Ben. Not that he isn’t OK. He is clean and honorable and trustworthy in every way. But he just can’t measure up to them. Neither can I, though, so why should I criticize Stan? I guess we aren’t adapted to such a rarefied atmosphere as prevails around the Institute.

Stan’s outstanding trait—though he would never admit it—is his kindness. Any underdog stirs his sympathy. He does a lot of Sam Pawley’s work because he knows Sam isn’t strong—which doesn’t help Sam a bit, because he trots off and hunts up some other task. Stan usually spends Saturday afternoons taking some of the most underprivileged boys to places they would never
get to see otherwise. Also, I know, a little bird named Billy told me, that he has purchased two pairs of crutches and an artificial leg since he came here. This leads me to believe that he, like Billy’s parents, is wealthy.

I can’t finish about Stan without mentioning Riley. He is a gray kitten that Stan found in a paper bag in an alley. We fed him with an eyedropper, then with a doll’s bottle, and now he is quite able to drink from a saucer. He is supposed to belong to the Kings’ small son, but, with the independence that seems to be a part of every cat, he has decided to adopt Stan. Stan
says
he doesn’t like it, but if Riley fails to notice when he comes in, Stan pokes in all the corners until he finds his kitty. Dr. Ben says Riley sleeps on the foot of Stan’s bed. So he
must
like him. Sleeping with a cat he didn’t like would be too much even for Stan’s good nature.

I wish you could all know Billy. Her real name is Wilhelmina Gertrude Van Meter. As she is little and cuddly and lovable, you can see why she had to have a nickname. Billy it just had to be. Stan has a song to the tune of “Clementine” that he sings to her. He composes new verses at an average rate of one a day. She says she knows that there have been hundreds of them in the last ten years. They are all silly, and some of them have neither rhyme nor reason, but they give us a laugh on many a day that needs a bit of fun to lighten it. The latest went like this:

Billy is a beautiful, dainty little thing with an angelic face and hair of an undeniable red. She is vivacious, and nothing that happens ever gets her down. She has been helping part-time here for four years, but when she graduated from Bethel last spring she came on as a full-time worker. Her specialty is the preschool age children. She runs the day nursery with the help of several neighborhood women. She is Dr. Ben’s right-hand man in the baby clinic. I entertain hopes of a marriage between her and Ben
someday. However, since Stan came, those hopes are pretty dim. As I said before, Billy’s parents are very wealthy, and she and Stan seem to have a background of culture that Ben and I lack. Sometimes I think she loves Ben, and then Stan comes along and she is all devotion to him. There’s nothing I can do about it, however, except to wait and see.

The Kings are in charge here, and I feel inadequate to describe them. I admire them more than anyone else I’ve ever known. I love them both. They aren’t a bit alike. Phil is tall and
very
handsome. He is not yet thirty-five, I’m sure, but he has prematurely gray hair which, combined with his dark eyes, would make him distinctive looking in any crowd. He is wonderfully kind and understanding, and his heart goes out to every underprivileged boy and girl he sees. He has a charming personality and can win the confidence of the toughest youngster. I can’t really describe him. The way I’ve written it, he sounds sissified, like a modern Prince Charming. But he isn’t a bit like that. I’ve seen him wrestling with Stan and Ben, and he can put them both down at once. I’ve heard from others that he left quite an opportunity in another field to come to Henderson Institute, but he apparently doesn’t regret it, counting it all joy to be permitted to work at reclaiming human souls from the gutters of Sherman Street.

I never knew the full meaning of the word
helpmeet
until I saw how Eleanor King complements Phil in all his life’s purpose and work. As Stan says about them, “They are tuned in on the same wave length.” She is rather short, not fat at all, but not dainty like Billy. She always makes me think of the word
sturdy
. She is sturdy in physical build and in character, one to be depended on. She isn’t as pretty as Billy, either, though her face has a charm of its own that is most attractive. Her one real point of beauty is her hair. It is brown at most times, but in the sunshine it is a sort of mahogany color. That sounds silly, but it is true. When the firelight shines on it, it is bronze. It is very curly, and its bright waves and ringlets are lovely.

She is working on a scientific book of some sort and spends a part of every day in her den. Occasionally they take trips to the woods with several cameras, and afterward she works in a darkroom that Phil has fixed for her in a big clothes closet. I am curious
to know what it is all about but do not dare to ask. Eleanor has a part in every phase of Institute work. She visits in the homes, helps with the babies, gives me a hand with the girls, teaches English, conducts Bible classes, heads up the Americanization work, directs the program for better sanitation in the homes—oh, I can’t tell you all she does. She is under thirty and much smaller than I, but when I am tired or a bit low I find myself wanting to snuggle on her shoulder as Chad does. She’s so motherly! I do hope that some time you and Mother Bess can meet them. Then you will understand how I feel. In spite of all the things that work against it, the family life of the Kings is held sacredly inviolate. (Aren’t those big words? I’m quoting Billy.) Even with all her other interests, Eleanor puts Chad first. Because of him she has few evenings out. Whenever Phil can be home we leave them alone and guard them from the world, which would press in on them. That’s all they require for happiness.

Chad is a husky little five year old: lovable, droll, and usually most obedient. He has a peculiarly stubborn streak in his nature, and sometimes there is a real struggle with him. But Eleanor, who seems to be the disciplinarian, deals with him alone behind closed doors, and they come out hand in hand, the battle over. I’d like to know how it’s done. Perhaps I’d better suggest that she give me a similar treatment. It seems a bit queer that Phil leaves all the discipline to Eleanor, but I don’t think he could do it. He is putty in that little lad’s hands. Chad is tall for his age and looks like neither parent. Eleanor’s young sister visited us a few weeks ago, and then I saw where Chad got his looks.

We all live here together in the Kings’ Palace like a big family. It is pretty quiet tonight, but usually it is like a three-ring circus. I must quit now and get some sleep. I have a big lot of work planned for tomorrow, and I promised Ben I’d go to the museum with him if he can get away. There isn’t one chance in fifty that he can go, but I want to be ready “just in case.” Kiss Judy’s little snub nose for me, give Jack a squeeze, and thank you all again for the lovely gifts.

Lovingly,

Hope      

A
s the last hours of the old year hurried out, the snow began to whirl around the rickety tenements of Sherman Street as if it wanted to cover up the scars that sin had left on what had once been a beautiful world. Snow piled high against the walls and fences and formed deep drifts across the sidewalks. The thermometer dropped to a new low for the year. The shop windows frosted up so that even if one cared to stop he could not have told what the window display inside was like. Dr. Ben, struggling on foot down a street where his car could not go, thought that, for the first time he could remember, the Sherman Street district was beautiful.

Just so
, he mused,
Christ’s righteousness can cover all our sin and ugliness and present us, spotlessly white, before the Throne
.

Inside the Palace, Hope and Billy and Stan rested before the fire in the hall. That was the warmest place in the house tonight, being farthest removed from the winds that found entrance around even the well-fitted windows of the big house. The young people had spent the evening at a party in the church with games and fun aplenty. The last half hour had been a quiet time that sent them home thoughtful and subdued. Stan and the girls had expected to drive over to Bethel College afterward for a watch night service. When they came out of the church the storm had met them with such fury that they decided not to attempt the drive. Stan stirred up the fire and laid fresh logs on it to drive
back the encroaching cold. The big built-in settee faced the fire and provided a cozy spot from which the girls could watch the flames, Hope at one end and Billy at the other, curled up like a couple of kittens among the pillows. Stan was stretched on a rug at their feet with a pillow under his head and Riley asleep on his chest. It seemed a much nicer way to see the old year out than to battle the drifts to and from Bethel. They did not even talk much for a while. The crackle of the fire and the sound of the wind outside were soothing, and they drowsed in silence until the outer door slammed and Ben came in, stamping the snow from his feet and rubbing numb hands together.

“Come on, feller,” called Stan as Ben slid out of his overcoat. “Park your little satchel under the sofy, and if anyone calls I’ll answer and tell them Doc is in conference. Come on, get busy and confer.”

“Thanks, I’ll do the same for you some day,” answered Ben, joining the group and looking about for another pillow. Hope started to toss him one, but before she could do so, Ben had slipped the pillow from under Stan’s head and seated himself on it with the woodbox at his back. As Stan’s head hit the floor he sat up with a growl.

“Hey! Go hunt the old family cistern and fall in, please!”

Ben handed him a birch log and said soothingly, “Use this for a pillow. It’s soft wood.”

Instead, Stan scrambled to his feet, picked up Riley from the floor and sat down between the two girls.

“Keep your old pillow and your hardwood substitute. I’ll sit here between the two loveliest ladies I know, and Riley and I will engage in some profitable and uplifting conversation.”

“You wouldn’t know how,” said Billy lazily.

“Oh, wouldn’t I? You should hear me! Why, this afternoon after class we had a
most
earnest discussion that would have profited any of you had you been there.”

“Discussion? About what?” inquired Billy suspiciously.

“About ethics.”

“Ethics? With that gang? They wouldn’t know the meaning of the word.”

“Well, neither do I, very well. We discussed, anyway—deep and serious questions of right and wrong. For instance,
here’s a poser. Is it right to throw away a piece of gum that has been chewed only a half hour just because someone offers you two peanuts? Should not the gum be parked in some convenient spot (Skeet Mosely puts his behind his ear), or better yet, given to someone who hasn’t any peanuts? Now answer me that, you wise birds. We argued half an hour, and the opinions of all remained status quo.”

Billy giggled, but Hope’s opinion was forthcoming. “Considering the fact that the gum from the machine on the corner tastes exactly like beeswax, my idea would be to get rid of it as soon as possible. But,” and here her voice became self-conscious, “I can’t advise my girls that way. Pennies for gum are very scarce, so I provide small squares of oil paper for them to save it in.”

Ben joined Billy in laughing at her, but Stan patted her hand.

“You’re a gal after my own heart. These two super sanitary medicos would break the poor kids’ hearts by robbing them of their half-chewed treasure. It isn’t a laughing matter when you get gum only once in a blue moon.”

“I know it,” said Billy contritely. “It’s a shame to
ever
laugh about anything that concerns these youngsters. But if we don’t laugh once in a while we’ll all go cuckoo. I won’t let anyone laugh at my babies, so we have to laugh at Skeet, Butch, Gracie, Dorette, and the rest of them.”

“They can take it,” said Hope. “They laugh at themselves. Why, when that bunch gets in the kitchen no one would dream that they had a care or lack in the world. They giggle and joke until I have to threaten to send them out of class. That quiets them every time.”

“I did send Bill Large out the other day,” said Stan. “Phil caught him and brought him back and talked to him in the office, and Mr. Bill has been a model lad since. By the way, where are the Kink and Quink tonight? Shut up in their own domain?”

“I don’t think so,” answered Hope. “They went out while we were at the party. Katie is with Chad. I saw her when I went to the kitchen.”