"Well, ya're makin' a great mistake, that's all I've got ta say," said Mrs. Beck with a sniff. "It don't pay to be all work an' no play. Ya'd oughtta learn ta play cards and drink beer, and be a jolly good fella. Ya can't expect to get jobs and keep 'em if ya can't get on with other girls in your class and age. It ain't natural. Well, don't blame me if ya break down an' get sick an' hafta be took off ta the hospital."
"Oh, no, Mrs. Beck. I won't blame you!" laughed Dale as Mrs. Beck arose haughtily and left the room, slamming the roomer's door just the least little bit.
But then almost immediately she opened it again a narrow crack and added: "An' don't flatter yerself that yer gonta curry favor with that stuck-up newspaperman, breakin' her fruit bags all over the place till he has ta take pity on ya and carry 'em up fer ya! That don't mean a thing with him. He don't take ta no ladies at all. He's all fer hisself an' no mistake!"
This time the door was shut finally and firmly, and presently Dale ventured to lock it and sit down for a good hearty laugh.
Chapter 4
The new job went well, and Dale was contented in it. Only that from the first it was evident that the former secretary was the real one who owned that job, and Dale was considered only a substitute. For Miss Alice Carhart was beloved by all, and everything that was done was done on the pattern that "Miss Alice" had left behind her. Dale had no quarrel with her ways, for they seemed to be excellent ones in every line. But the constant feeling that everyone was waiting for Miss Alice to return, and she was nothing here, and never would be, made her lose heart sometimes. There was no incentive to work, feeling that the day might very soon come when she would again be without a job.
Oh, they were kind to her at the office, always ready to help if her work was heavy, always cheerful and smiling. But she felt an outsider, and it seemed to be kept continually before her mind that she was nothing else.
Sometimes she would try to tell herself that perhaps this would go on longer than they all seemed to think. Only that would mean that the other girl Alice would be disappointed in not getting her strength back as soon as she had hoped, and Dale didn't want disappointment for any girl. This other girl needed it as much as she did probably, and had evidently worked for her promotions and this place in the office as hard as ever she was willing to work. She was not jealous and would not want to take anything away from another. Only she wanted so much to have a place of her own, where she was wanted and needed.
So when she would come to this time of an evening, and lie in the dim light of the oil stove trying to get the better of her loneliness, her heart would almost break. There was only the sound of the hilarious laughter from downstairs where they were playing cards, or where the radio was rolling out a lot of jazz music.
Then she would get up, turn on her light, now shrouded under a soft pretty shade, and sit down with her Bible for a little while.
It wasn't often she gave way to discouragement, because as the days went by she grew more and more interested in her work, and, whether it was counting for her personal advancement or not, she liked to do it well. She liked to feel that each day's work had been done for the Lord Christ, for He was growing more and more a clear Presence in her life, to whom she was accountable, and to whom she turned for approval.
And she was not without approval from those for whom she worked. They recognized her worth, and often gave commendation, which made a warm, pleasant feeling around her heart.
There were a few other girls in her office who were uniformly friendly, and three or four young men, but they all had their own little circles and Dale was not one to push herself in. So for the most part she went her own way alone, and had a feeling that the world was a very large, lonely place.
She hadn't even found a church in which she felt at home, though she knew that was largely her own fault. Those she had encountered had either been too far away for regular attendance, or had been so formal and almost worldly in their tone, that they did not draw her. Also she was very tired on Sunday, and sometimes slept late, too late to go a distance, and she knew she must not spend money in carfare. She must save every penny possible and be ready for a long and perhaps a desperate time in the middle of winter without a job.
If she could have had a tiny radio it would have helped her greatly, but there again she was stopped by the cost of buying one. Even books from the library and magazines must be seldom indulged in. Her work was close and strenuous, and she must save her eyes. Some of the other girls were wearing glasses, and they talked in the office now and then of the cost of having eyes examined. She must just take care of her eyes and prevent the need of glasses.
Dale had met the three girls of whom Mrs. Beck discoursed so frequently, and they had mutually disliked and scorned one another and kept apart.
But she had not met the young man again who had helped her pick up her oranges, except briefly as they passed each other in the hall and nodded good morning. For mindful of Mrs. Beck's insinuations, Dale had been most careful not to be around when she knew he would be likely to be there. She wanted that fine old gossip to have as little to hang her gossip on as possible. She wanted her to see that she was not the kind of girl who would go out and tear open a bag of oranges at the feet of a desirable young man in order to get acquainted. Why she cared what Mrs. Beck thought of her, she didn't know, but she kept out of sight as much as possible. And considering the fact that George Rand was a most reticent young man himself, it was not strange that they had not met often and that the vision of his pleasant grin gradually faded from Dale's thoughts.
Also George Rand was away a good deal, covering conventions of importance, political and otherwise, for his paper. Sometimes he was sent far west, and again to New York, and then to Chicago or Texas. Sometimes down to Washington for a day or a week. Always he came back to his third-story front room between each migration, but often it was late at night when he returned, and he would be away again early in the morning. At last even Mrs. Beck ceased to speak of him to Dale, as if he were of no particular moment to her. She had about decided that Dale was hopelessly uninteresting. She couldn't fathom her at all. Why did a girl want to be like that? Why didn't she want to have good times with other girls? Why didn't she make herself up a little and get a "boyfriend"? Dale seemed to her almost as grown up and far away from ordinary living as a middle-aged businessman, and yet she was a pretty girl if she only would fix herself up.
But whenever Dale did think of the young man whom she had met so pleasantly that one time, she found she was glad he belonged in the house. He seemed a bit of respectable atmosphere, in the midst of so much that was impossible.
And then one day there began to be talk of the return of "Miss Alice." She was better, it appeared, and longing to get back to her work.
It was the young foreman from the printing department who told Dale.
"They say Miss Alice is coming back before Christmas," he said cheerily, and Dale felt as if he had struck her across the heart. Did that then mean she was out of a job?
She scarcely slept that night for thinking of it. True, the manager had promised to let her know in due time and had said he would do his best to get something else for her, but she had been working for other people long enough to realize that they did not always remember what they had promised to do, or often were unable to do what they wished. It would therefore likely be entirely up to her to find a new job, and so she set to work making quiet inquiries. She couldn't leave, of course, until the former secretary returned, but if she had something definite to go to it would make the way much easier.
She thought about going to the manager to find out if the report was true about Miss Alice, but she decided against it. It was better to go on doing the best that she could, just hoping that a place would be made for her somewhere. But she cut short each lunch hour and systematically set to work to discover any vacant places nearby. None, however, were forthcoming that she felt were right for her, and the days that had been fairly bright and interestin
g now went slowly dragging under a heavy burden of worry. And now, more and more the rumors kept coming. Different ones of her fellow laborers had received letters from Miss Alice rather confirming the report the young foreman had told her. And one night when she had come home after a fruitless search and cast herself down on her bed letting the tears have their way, it came to her that this was no way to trust God. She had told Him she would trust Him and let Him have His way with her, even if it seemed for a time as if she would starve. Well, she was a long way from starving yet. She still had money enough to pay for her room for a few weeks yet, enough if she was very careful to feed her also the same length of time. And, of course, there would be at least a week's pay coming to her if they discharged her. She wasn't down to the limit yet. She must learn to trust. Perhaps that was the reason why God was bringing her so low, that she might learn to trust Him. As for the money from the fabulous uncle, she discounted it entirely.
So she got up and washed her face, dashing the cold water over it refreshingly, combed her hair, and changed her dress as if she were going out somewhere. Then she made a game of getting an interesting supper out of the odds and ends she had in her little tin box out the window, which she called her refrigerator. A stalk of celery, too tough to enjoy raw, nearly a cup of stewed tomatoes left over from yesterday, a lump of baked beans, the last of a can she had opened a week ago, a scrap of hamburger.
She put them all in her little tin saucepan and watched over them carefully, till there came out a very tasty dish of soup--was it bean or beef? At any rate, it had a delicious flavor.
There was also a lettuce leaf, two leaves of spinach, one radish, and half a tiny onion, besides the little white leaf top of the celery stalk. Minced fine they made a very attractive salad, with the last cracker from the box and a tiny wedge of cheese. It was a good dinner, and she really enjoyed it. And then as she nibbled at a single chocolate peppermint left over from some that had been passed around in the office that day, and now serving as dessert, she got to thinking that she really ought to go out somewhere and get a brighter outlook on life. She must not let herself slump this way. It was spoiling her morale. She wasn't even going to church. Perhaps that was what she needed to help her keep her trust in God.
All these days she had been like one groping, as if everything was dark about her. If only she could get to a place where it was light! She could walk with confidence again if it were only light about her! What did that remind her of? Suddenly, from somewhere back in the dear happy days of her girlhood, came words that she had often heard her mother read.
Impulsively, she got out her mother's Bible. Those words were somewhere in the little Johns, first or second, she was sure.
Scattered here and there over the pages were precious penciling from her mother's own hand, and there all at once the verses stood out underlined:
This then is the message. . .that God is light, and in him is no darkness at all. If we say that we have fellowship with him, and walk in darkness, we lie, and do not the truth: But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship one with another----
Fellowship! She paused and read the verses over again. Fellowship. She hadn't been having fellowship with anyone for this long time. She hadn't even tried to have fellowship with any other Christians. She could almost hear the troubled words her dear mother would have spoken about it.
And suddenly there came to her a desire to change that. She would go to church! She would go this very night! This was Wednesday night and some church would likely be having prayer meeting. She would just start out and find a prayer meeting!
So she put on her hat and coat and gloves and started.
There were loud voices from the front room where the noisy roomers were gathered playing cards. Their raucous voices rang out to the hall and made Dale's sensitive nerves cringe.
"What am I? A frail flower?" she said to herself angrily. "That I can't stand the unpleasant things of earth. Fellowship!" she repeated. "How could one have fellowship with people like that?"
She gave a little shudder as an oath ripped out through the hall, and then one of the girls screeched, "Give me another glass of beer, can'tcha? I'm perishing fer a drink!"
She hurried out into the evening, glad to get away from the atmosphere.
"Am I wrong," she asked herself, "that I can't fellowship with such people?"
Then to her soul came a clear, quick answer, from more words stored away in her memory, hardly comprehended until now.
"Come out from among them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord." That must mean come out from people who are not His own. The fellowship must be with those who know and love the Lord, else there can be no true fellowship for a believer. That's why she was going to church tonight, to try and find some people who love the Lord; to get strength and assurance from being with them.
It was marvelous the way the things she had learned in the past were coming back to her now. How she had wandered away from the path in which her father and mother had trained her young feet from babyhood! How many things she knew that she had not put to use in these hard days! What a fool she had been to let them slip away from her when these were just the times for which they had been given, to save her from drifting into doubt and despair. She had allowed a kind of belligerence to get into her mind, as if her troubles and fears were God's fault, and she had been going on in her hard way, half pitying herself for being treated like this!
Then all at once she came to a little chapel where she had been twice before and where she had heard great truths uttered in a sweet simplicity.
"God's way is the right way,
God's way is the best way,
I'll trust in Him always,
He knoweth the best."
It seemed extraordinary that they should have sung that just then, as she was entering. She could not get away from the thought that God was speaking to her through the whole service.
The young minister began to read the eighth chapter of Romans, and presently he came to the verse: "And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to his purpose."
The minister lifted his eyes a moment and in a quiet voice asked, "And what is that purpose to which He has called us?"
He read the next verse: "For whom he did foreknow, he also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of his Son!"
He lifted his eyes again and looked steadily at them, speaking in a quiet, impressive, conversational tone.
"Then God's whole purpose in whatever He is doing to you, whatever He is allowing in your life, is that you may be transformed into the image of God's Son. That you may be like Him. Remember God first made man in His own image, but through sin man lost that glorious image. No man today would ever be recognized as being from God's family, would he? But God loved us so much that He sent His dear Son to be crucified for our sins, to purchase our pardon with His precious blood, and to restore us to His image. All that He allows to come to us is for that purpose, that we may resemble God again, that we may be as younger brethren to His dear Son. It is only so that we can really represent our Lord and witness for Him."
Dale sat startled, fascinated by his words. It seemed as if they had been spoken just for her, and as if God Himself had sent them to her. She felt arraigned there in the presence of God for having doubted Him, for having grieved and worried about her small trials, when all the time it was just God, doing needful things for her, that the presence of His glory might be restored to her marred and sinful self!
She wanted to bow her head and weep, but she sat there quietly enough, the color soft in her pale cheeks, the glint of earnestness in her sweet eyes. She did not know it herself of course, but she was very sweet and attractive as she sat there listening, and more than one noted the lovely girl who seemed to be drinking in what was said.
Afterward they came and spoke to her, welcomed her to their midst. Some of them asked her where she lived and begged her to come a
gain.
"I'm not sure I shall be there very long," she said as she gave her address, with sudden remembrance of her vanishing job. "It's a long way off, but I'll come again when I can, and if I move I'll try to get near here. I like your church. I'll surely come again if I can. I've been helped tonight." She said it shyly, very quietly, and they watched her and really hoped she would come again. She had come out here to this little church in search of fellowship. Fellowship of those who knew and loved her Lord. She had been trying to walk in the light, and now she had found fellowship, and it was sweet to her. They were strangers, yes, but they spoke as brothers and sisters. They spoke the dear old family language of those who were God's children, born-again ones. How the old accustomed phrases came back and slipped into place. She was among God's family again, and it was good to be here.
And then the very next morning the blow fell!
Chapter 5
The sun had a very uncertain look as she glanced out of the window while she was hurrying to get her dressing and breakfast out of the way. There were many anxious-looking little bluish-gray clouds scurrying around as if uncertain of directions. And when she went out the door a bitter wind caught her, and pulled at her garments, and flung cold down her neck and into her face; a wild wicked wind that set her shivering and gave her a miserable inadequate feeling as if the way to the office was too hard, too long.
"But I am trusting in the Lord," she told herself. "I must not forget that all day. He is setting the pace for me, and there is nothing for me to do but follow where He leads me."
She took a deep breath of the sharp cold and lifted her head and shoulders to go forward. This was a day that made her remember the promise of a nice warm squirrel coat that her father had made her just before Christmas came, and she hadn't had the fur coat. Mother couldn't get it for her, though she would gladly have done so. There wasn't money enough, and Mother had to have doctors and operations; there never had been money enough. But just the thought of that promise in the long ago was pleasant. How good it would have felt to snuggle into the deep fur collar this morning, and how glad both her father and mother would have been to have left it behind them to keep their child warm! And God cared just as much as they did, only He saw that there was something that Dale Hathaway needed more than fur coats to help her to conform to the image of His Son. That was the important thing.