Incidentally, too, Mrs. Harris was getting her eyes opened to a lot of things, and it was quite a common occurrence for her to run into the office toward the close of the afternoon and look for a new book or paper to read that evening.
Greg came breezing in every morning for a few minutes, as if he knew just when he was most needed, bringing new supplies of literature, pausing to discuss a new book with some customer, taking down the names and addresses of people who needed enlightenment.
Then every day, sooner or later, he would give a quiet signal to Margaret, and she would presently come down with her hat and coat on, and they would hurry away together. Sometimes to the house to measure for new curtains for some room that didn’t have the kind of curtains that pleased them. Sometimes to the store to purchase something for their Christmas plans.
Mrs. Harris had found a middle-aged English woman who made it her business to go out doing housecleaning, bringing two able and trustworthy helpers with her. These were put into the house to clean, and the work went forward with remarkable rapidity. Each time they came back to it, the two householders found another room nearing completion, sweet and clean and dustless with shining windows, freshly laundered curtains, everything in perfect order.
“We shall need to be hunting up some servants, I suppose,” said Greg one day, looking around on the spotlessness with satisfied eyes.
“Oh no, not yet, anyway,” protested Margaret. “We don’t want a lot of strange servants around to bother us at Christmastime. We want it homey and cozy. I know how to cook and clean. Grandmother and I can do the cooking.”
“Yes, but this is a very big place to keep clean, and if you spend all your time in cooking, where will there be any left to have good times in? And especially at Christmas we want plenty of good times. I’ll admit it’s more homelike without a lot of servants, but we want to have time to give to our guests. Besides, we want our grandmother to have a good rest and not to have to work hard.”
Margaret nestled her hand in his and smiled up at him.
“You are dear!” she remarked irrelevantly. “And yet you never had a lot of servants in your life! Well, I’ll tell you, we’ll compromise. Suppose we get these cleaners to come in every so often, as often as they are needed, and just go through the house putting it in order, making it immaculate, and then by and by as we see the need and find the right person or persons, we’ll get one or two. I wouldn’t ever be happy having a lot of servants managing my home, would you? I’d rather manage it myself. And if we don’t do our own cooking, at least I can train the one who does it, or Grandmother can, which would be far more to the point.”
“That would suit me all right if it doesn’t make you work too hard,” said Greg. “I agree that the servant question ought to be worked out gradually, step by step. I had thought maybe we could put a gardener in that little cottage down by the side road, and if we could get one with a wife who could cook, so much the better. Then we’d have the house to ourselves except when she was needed.”
So gradually, with the help of Mrs. Harris who knew many trained workers of various kinds, they worked out their problems together.
“We’re not going to be a fashionable, rich family,” Margaret said, smiling. “We’re going to be a real family with a home and a home life! We don’t have to do as the world does. Even though we have a mansion for a home, we don’t need to live in the manners and customs of the fashionable world.”
“I should say not!” said Greg contentedly. Then he suddenly stooped and drew Margaret into his arms and kissed her.
“You precious little girl!” he said, his voice full of feeling. “How is it that you were kept so unspoiled from the world? How is it that God kept a girl like you for me? Just me, Greg Sterling? Why, if I had known when I left my ranch and traveled east that there was such a girl waiting for me, I’d have come in an airplane all the way. The train wouldn’t have been fast enough for me!”
She lifted her happy face to his and smiled joyously.
“What about me?” she said. “Don’t you think I’ve got something to be thankful for in you? I’d rather have you than any man I ever met. I’m so glad you’re just what you are! I’m so glad you don’t want to make a big show with your money.”
“Well,” said Greg thoughtfully, “I suppose if you’d wanted to go into the world and shine and have parties and all that, I’d have forced myself to be willing somehow for your sake, because I love you so much, but I’m mighty thankful you don’t! Now, shall we go upstairs and see if there’s anything more we need to get for our grandmother and grandfather? We must have things pretty perfect before they get here, for I’ve a hunch they won’t be willing for us to spend a great deal on them if they know it beforehand. They’re that way, aren’t they?”
“Yes, they’re that way!” Margaret smiled. “But I know they’re going to enjoy everything you’ve arranged for their comfort.”
Greg had planned that one charming wing of the big beautiful house should be set apart for the grandparents, whether they would consent to spend all their time in it or not. He said they should make their home with them if they would, and then in summer they would all go back to the old farmhouse on the mountain, maybe sometimes in winter, too, just to have a good time together. How Margaret’s heart leaped with joy at the idea!
So the lovely apartment had been made as homelike and comfortable as possible. There was even a little room that had perhaps been intended as a dressing room in the original plan of the house that Greg had had fitted up for a kitchenette, with a tiny electric stove, a sink, and an electric refrigerator, in case Grandmother should sometimes want to get up a little meal for Grandfather and feel independent now and then. It was just across the hall from their bedroom, living room, and delightful tiled bathroom. Not near enough to make them feel they had to use it all the time, but near enough to be convenient anytime Grandmother was seized with a desire to do her own cooking. But of course all that was contingent on a time when there should be servants in the kitchen and Grandmother wouldn’t feel at home in the big kitchen downstairs.
At the other end of the hall was another group of delightful rooms, the master apartment of the house, and Margaret went through them wonderingly, looking around on the beauty and comfort there prepared, and put up a little prayer of thanksgiving. This was to be the hallowed place that she would share with Greg. They two were to be one! What a tremendous, wonderful mystery! After all her desperate need and loneliness and peril, God had brought her out to a large place like this and let her see such joy and luxury this side of heaven! Ah! She would walk softly before the Lord. She would ask Him constantly to keep her heart right with Him, to let her use his wonderful gifts in the right way, to witness for Him!
By this time, Margaret was wearing a beautiful, clear diamond like a drop of dew on the third finger of her left hand, and Mrs. Harris was most respectful to her and did all in her power to make her comfortable. Jane Garrett was her adoring slave, looking at her worshipfully, studying her every wish, anticipating any little need she might have, and working in the office as if it were a holy calling. There was no longer any question but that Jane was a Christian and eager to learn everything she could of Bible truth, eager to pass it on to others. There was also no longer any question but that it would be perfectly safe to leave the office in Jane’s care while they went after the grandparents.
At last the house stood shining and ready. Mrs. Harris had offered her services to get dinner ready for them the night they should return from Vermont. There seemed to be nothing more to be arranged for a happy homecoming and a joyous time at Christmas. They had even found the children for a Christmas children’s party, children from a forlorn, little country orphanage, whose endowment had melted away with the failure of a big trust company. They had invited the children for a feast at five o’clock and the Christmas tree on Christmas Eve, and made glad the heart of their attendant by promising to look after the children that day and let her go to visit her old
mother. They were planning eagerly for gifts of clothing and toys for each child and a happy time generally. They had even gone so far as to get the name of each child, fifteen boys and seventeen girls, with their ages and sizes, and Margaret was doing individual shopping for them just as if they were her own. Margaret felt that it was the most wonderful thing she had ever done to be allowed thus to brighten these dreary, little, drab lives.
So the morning dawned that they had set for their return to Vermont, and Margaret came down very early, her hat on, her coat on her arm, and found Mrs. Harris and Jane ahead of her, with breakfast almost ready. Greg was already in the office awaiting her, having been invited to breakfast.
He met her with gladness in his eyes. Margaret’s heart gave a leap of joy as he stooped to greet her. Was life going to be one continual praise from now on? Oh for grace not to be spoiled by such beautiful devotion! She felt constantly her own unworthiness. How recently she had been in despair, yes, and doubt of God’s love for her, when all the time He had been planning this wonder in her life!
They did full justice to Mrs. Harris’s breakfast this time, and then Margaret hurried to the office to get her coat. But Greg followed her, came up behind her, took her coat from her hand, and held it. She turned and reached out her arm to put it in the sleeve, but the lining did not feel familiar. It was soft, slippery satin, instead of the dull finish of her own coat, and as he folded it around her and whirled her around to fasten it, she suddenly saw Mrs. Harris and Jane standing in the doorway. Something in their eager expectant faces made her look down at herself, and she was arrayed in a soft, beautiful coat of gray squirrel!
“Greg!” she said. “Oh Greg! And her eyes were shining like stars.
“Does it fit?” he asked anxiously, his face one broad grin.
“It fits like the paper on the wall!” said Mrs. Harris, as excited as anyone. She and Jane were all too evidently in on the secret and enjoying that presentation as much as if the coat had been theirs.
“Oh Greg! How wonderful!” she said again, lifting her eyes full of delight to his. And right then and there before those two adoring, startled females, he took her in his arms and kissed her!
Mrs. Harris lowered her eyes and went scuttling off embarrassedly, but Jane backed off to the other side of the hall where she could continue to drink in the wonderful sight and registered a vow that if she couldn’t marry a man as good and fine and devoted as Mr. Sterling, she would remain single all her life and just be glad that she had been permitted a sight of what real love could be like.
Margaret looked down at her other coat and hesitated.
“Yes, take it along, too,” said Greg, reading her thoughts. “You may want it for walks in the woods if it isn’t too cold. Now, all set? Let’s go!”
He picked up her suitcase and the other coat, called good-bye to the Harrises, and they went out to the car.
“Yes,” said Margaret, still thinking about the other coat, “I can let Grandmother wear it back over her other one. I was afraid she would be cold. Her coat is rather thin!”
“Is that so?” said Greg frowning. “I thought you were going to get her some things.”
“Well, I did. I got Grandmother a plain wool dress and some new collars and cuffs. I didn’t dare get too much lest she would think it was going to be too grand for her and would back out of going. I thought when we got there I could get her the things she needed.”
“That’s right,” said Greg, but there was a hidden twinkle in his eyes that belied his close-shut lips.
Greg had brought another big hamper along, but there was no turkey this time. Instead, there were chops and beefsteak and everyday things that hungry people would like. There were also several big boxes and packages in the backseat, but Margaret had some of her own—new shirts and warm underwear for her grandfather and a lot of little necessities she knew they had long needed. She did not notice what Greg had. In fact, she was too happy to be starting out alone with Greg again to notice much of anything else.
“Do you realize, young lady, that this is really our wedding trip?” he asked when they had traversed the lonely, early morning streets of the city, inhabited only by milk carts and bread wagons, and were finally out on the smooth highway.
“Oh, it is, isn’t it?” said Margaret, slipping her hand inside his arm and squeezing it close. “Oh, I’m so happy, Greg.”
He leaned over and kissed her radiant face.
“You haven’t got a thing on me!” he said joyously. “I’m the happiest man in the United States! But say, do you realize that we’re going to be different from everybody else? We’re taking our trip beforehand instead of afterwards. That’s what you call unique, isn’t it?”
“It’s lovely,” said Margaret, resting her head against his shoulder and looking dreamily off over the frost-touched fields. “It doesn’t matter when it is!”
“But aren’t you going to mind not going off on a wedding trip afterwards like everybody else? You know we couldn’t invite a party and then go off and leave them.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to go away!” exclaimed Margaret. “I want to stay and enjoy the new house and see what Grandmother and Grandfather say to everything, and begin to live We can go off again sometime, can’t we?”
“I’ll say we can!” said Greg. “We’ve got all the time there’ll be, you know.”
“I shall thank my heavenly Father every day all my life for sending you to love me,” said Margaret softly.
All too soon the bright day fled. Precious hours ever to be remembered. Hours as near as earth came to heaven.
They came into the region of snow presently, hard, glittering, deep snow that had already settled down to stay and make a bedrock creaking sound for tires. Greg stopped and put on the chains as it became increasingly difficult to drive without them. And then suddenly they were at the farm and being welcomed by the old couple, eagerly, lovingly; Grandmother taking Greg in her arms as if he had been her own son.
No, they didn’t know yet. Margaret hadn’t told them. She had wanted the pleasure of being there to see their faces. And so when the welcomes had been said and they came within the wide, old kitchen, lighted now by many lamps all shiningly ready for an illumination when they should arrive, Margaret took Greg’s hand and stood beside him.
“He loves me, Grandmother, Grandfather. Isn’t that wonderful?” she said with a lovely glow over her face and her eyes starry bright.
“No,” said Grandmother with a light of satisfaction on her face. “No, it isn’t wonderful, but it’s beautiful! I’m glad!” And she said it in a tone of great relief, as if she had been so afraid he wouldn’t.
Swiftly the week sped away in the snowy woods, and they had such a blissful time, those two who were so soon to be married, going around from one spot to another, saying: “Here it was that you took hold of my arm when you almost fell, and I wanted to pick you up and carry you up to the level, only I didn’t dare!” and “Here was where you gave me such a beautiful look and called me Margaret!”
Breathlessly as the days went by, they enjoyed every precious moment, meanwhile working along with the old people to help get the house ready for hibernating and to help them get ready for the journey.
It was Greg who solved the question of baggage.
“Why, you won’t need a trunk!” he said when the old people were suggesting sending a little old haircloth trunk by express because they had no bags or suitcases to take to a city. Margaret was greatly troubled that it hadn’t occurred to her they would need something of this sort.
“You see,” said Greg, “there’s a trunk on the back of the car, and it is made up of three mammoth suitcases. You can have one apiece and one over for extras. Here, let me show you!”
He brought in the big suitcases and opened them, and Grandmother sat down and examined them in great delight.
“It’s going to be nice, John,” she said as pleased as a child, “to go back where they have things again. It’s almost ten years
since we’ve been much of anywhere except Rutland.”
But the morning of going finally came, and the house was closed and shuttered, the fire put out, the oil taken out of the lamps, everything safe for leaving, and in a kind of delicious trepidation, the old people went out, down the snowy path to the car, and climbed in.
“Now,” said Greg, “you’d better put on those coats before we get going. It’ll be hard for you to get them on comfortably when we get started, and it’s a right snappy morning. You’ll need them. Of course we have a heater in the car, but I’m sure you’ll need them.”
“Coats?” said Grandmother looking down in astonishment at the furry heap that lay in the seat where she was about to sit down.
“Coats?” said Grandfather, getting on the running board and gazing at the neat cloth bundle with furry edges and collar on his side of the backseat.
“Coats?” said Margaret as she tried the door for the last time and flew over the path to see what was going on. And then her face blazed into brightness that vied with the glint of the rising sun from behind the heavy snowy clouds in the east.
For Margaret suddenly understood, and she paused to breathe, “Oh you precious!” as she brushed past Greg.
“I’ll help you, Grandmother!” she called with a lilt in her voice. “You might as well take off the other coat and hang it on the rack, and that sweater, too. You won’t need them. Here, let me unbutton it.”
Margaret unfastened the old threadbare coat that had seen service for almost twenty years, stripped off the old gray sweater, and slid the frail little arms of the old lady into the satin-lined coat of fur before she even felt a breath of air. Grandmother stood up in the car and looked down at herself in amusement, soft, dark fur from her neck to her toes!
“But I don’t understand,” she said, breathing on the ripples of fur and touching her cheek softly to its silky surface. “Whose is it, Margaret? I shouldn’t feel comfortable borrowing anything fine like this. Something might happen to it. It might get mussed.”