Then he grew interested in the music, and marveled that she played so well. Not that he was a connoisseur in music, though during his college days he had managed to hear some of the best, and to enjoy it greatly.
When it came time for his solo he found himself so in tune with the whole sweet simple service that he felt none of the reluctance to sing that he had had when Sunny first asked him. He let the song roll forth with its message, until the audience hushed into breathlessness, listening. And there were tears even in some old eyes as the listeners remembered Barney’s mother, wondering if in heaven she could know and hear.
Some of his old playmates, who had been deferred because of some physical ailment, sat in wonder at him, and drank in the message of his song as something they seemed to have missed out on so far. For Barney sang as if the words of his song had taken deep hold upon his life, and he were urging them to accept what he had. There was one fellow, Cy Baxter by name, a little older than Barney, who had been morbid for months because he couldn’t get in anywhere, army or navy, and had to stay quietly in the bank and be looked down upon by the others as a slacker. The bank was all right of course in peacetime, but it made him feel like an old man now, and all because of a little physical disability.
But when he heard Barney singing, he caught some message from that song that pointed his heart above. Somehow Barney got it across to him that God wanted him right where he was, and because it had been ordered by God, that was the highest honor he could have had. Afterward he wondered what it was, what had been the words Barney had sung that had made him willing to yield to God’s will and do what he was doing with a smiling face and a satisfied soul, even if he would have been so much better pleased if he might have gone out and done some of the brave hazardous deeds that Barney was reported to have done.
Did the angels somehow convey the message to Barney that he was not just entertaining old friends and neighbors who were curious about him for his mother’s sake, but that he was singing to souls who needed a message? For that was the way he sang. And to his own astonishment, that was the way he felt.
It seemed, when the benediction was pronounced, that it had been a blessed service and he was glad he had gone.
Afterward, they swarmed around him and thanked him, those old friends of his childhood, friends of his mother, and some few who remembered his father. They told him how much they had enjoyed his singing, and how proud they were of all he had done in the service, and proud that afterward he had cared enough to come back to the old church. And Cy Baxter had lingered indifferently in the back of the church until most of the others were gone, and then he came up and gripped Barney’s hand and said fervently, “Say, Barn, that was swell!” Barney looked in his eyes, saw a hint of tears, and gripped Cy’s hand warmly.
“Thanks, pard!” he said. “Glad you liked it.” But there was a message warmer than just those words in Barney’s eyes, almost tears behind his own glance, as his hands held the other young man’s hand with a lingering pressure. Somehow, there seemed to be a bond forged right there that linked a chain to heaven.
The young organist’s cheeks were rosy as she watched the reaction to Barney’s song, and she was more pleased than at any praise that had ever been given to her.
It was on the way home that she told him how his singing had stirred her, and how she had seen the effect on different ones in the audience.
“Oh, Barney!” she said. “I wish you were going to stay here and help in that choir! Of course, I know that’s not to be compared with the work you are doing in service for the country, but oh, I believe you could reach souls with your voice!”
“Thank you, Margaret,” he said, laying his hand for an instant on the little hand that rested on his arm. “I had never thought of that as a calling, but I’d be glad if I might help people sometimes that way.”
They were walking slowly, too much stirred by the service, and the warm reception of the people, to be willing to have it over soon.
Then suddenly the girl looked up. “How did you make out with your Washington call yesterday, Barney?”
“Oh, Washington. Yes. Why, I found my man, the admiral, was out of the city. I’m to see him at eleven o’clock tomorrow.”
“Oh,” she said with a tight little catch in her breath. “Well—I’ll be praying for you.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll be remembering that.” And he laid his hand on hers again with another quick pressure. “But,” he said, after a minute, looking down at her almost mischievously, “which way will you be praying? That I’m to go, or stay?”
Margaret was still for a minute, and then she looked up confidently and answered, “I’ll be praying for God’s way.”
“That’s great!” said Barney thoughtfully. “That puts it up to God, doesn’t it? And after all, I wouldn’t want it otherwise. I don’t want to impose my wishes in this. I’ll make my offer to Washington, but I can’t really do anything else about it but that; God knows where Stormy is and if He needs me to go after him. I’ll just ask Him, too, to take over, and have it His way. Thank you for making me see that.”
Walking home alone in the moonlight afterward, he thought again what an unusual girl Sunny had become, and rejoiced. He was glad he had come home to get to know her again as she was now. What a girl to have for a friend!
Chapter 11
Roxy, wearing an old dressing gown that had done duty almost ever since she had been in service, and her front hair in curlers, appeared at the door with a speck of a flashlight in her hand while Barney was trying to find the keyhole.
“Oh, is that you, Roxy?” he said, somewhat startled to find the house in darkness. “What’s the matter? Something gone wrong with the electricity?”
“No,” said Roxy ruefully. “It’s just that we’ve had callers, and they said as how they might be coming back when you got home. They said it was important they see you tonight.”
Barney slid inside the door, shut it firmly, and locked it before he spoke. Then he stood with his back against it and said, “Who was it, Roxy? Not that gang again?”
“Yes, the very same. Joel and I were sitting on the front porch and I had his bad foot all fixed comfortable on a cushion, and we was enjoying the moonlight, when they come roistering into the drive and ordered me to call you. And when I said you weren’t here they wanted to know where you was, and I said you hadn’t told me. And they wanted to know when you’d be back, and I said I hadn’t any idea. And first they was going to come in and play the pianna and dance, but Joel, he got up and ordered them out. I never saw Joel so riled up, not before folks. They told him this wasn’t his house, but he said he was in charge of it, and they hadta go. He said it was Sunday night and we didn’t have such goings on here Sunday night. So they decided to go, but they said they’d drive around and find you, and they’d come back later. And I wouldn’t put it past ’em to come, no matter how late it was, so Joel and I locked all the doors and turned out the lights and went to bed. We thought that might discourage ’em a little if they found it dark. But now you’ve come, if you want the light, you do as you please. You could hang some blankets over your windows if you want to sit up and read or anything, but I thought I’d wait and tell you.”
“No, of course not, Roxy. I can get to bed in the dark. I’ve done it many a time in my life, especially since I’ve been in service. I’m sorry I kept you up so late, but I certainly don’t want any visits tonight again. Can you find your way with that flashlight? All right, I’ll come up behind you. Is this all the doors to lock? Okay. I think they’ll be disappointed if they come back again tonight. No, I don’t need the flashlight. I know every inch of this house from garret to cellar, dark or light. Don’t worry about me. Wasn’t I born and brought up in this house? There, find your way to bed, Roxy. Good night!” And Barney went to his own room, took off his shoes, and lost no time in getting undressed and into bed. He was sound asleep when the gang returned and drove up to the house.
He might have heard
them discussing whether he had come home yet, if he had been awake, but he was tired after the pleasurable excitement of the day and evening, and he always slept soundly, so he did not wake up. But Roxy, over on her side of the house was crouching down by the windowsill and she heard them.
“He probably hasn’t come home yet,” said Hortense. “Soldiers generally stay out late when they go to see a girl. I wonder who she is. I wonder if he took the train or not.”
“Aw, you forgot he’s under orders and s’posed to go to bed at a certain time, don’t you remember?” drawled Hank. It was evident that he had no relish for another encounter with Joel. He remembered that Joel wielded a heavy hand, and Hank was no fighter.
“Oh, you poor simp, didn’t you know that that talk about orders and rest was all bunk?” said Hortense. “You don’t catch Barney Vance doing anything he doesn’t want to do, not with his commanders several thousand miles away over a lot of ocean. What I’m aiming to do is to make Barney want to break orders and do what we want him to do, and I mean to win out, too! Well, let’s drive around a little more, and come back past here again, to see if there’s any light. It isn’t midnight yet.”
“Mebbe he’s gone down to Washington,” volunteered Amelia. “I heard him say he might have to go down pretty soon to report to some doctor or something.”
“Well, if that’s the case we might meet the midnight train and bring him home. How about it, Hank? Drive over to the highway and let’s meet the Washington train. The local one, too. He may have been visiting some friend of his mother’s, or some girl he met somewhere. But we can’t afford to let too much time go by before we get our plans started.”
So with much hilarity they drove away again, and Roxy crept thankfully into her bed, hoping the home enemy was subdued for the night at least.
But Barney was sound asleep, dreaming of Stormy Applegate who had saved his life.
And over in another white farmhouse about a mile or so away, where the lights were out and the family slept, the girl that used to be little Sunny, knelt beside her bed and prayed earnestly that such things as she desired might go God’s way. And afterward when she lay down to rest, her heart kept thrilling over the notes that Barney Vance had sung in church that night, and she went to sleep praying: Oh, God, bless Barney Vance, and make him into what You want him to be. And oh, take care of him, for Your name’s sake.
The next morning’s mail brought a number of letters for Barney, and among them were several invitations, for those girls had lost no time in getting their invitations into the early morning mail.
Barney opened two from overseas first, messages from his buddies who were still with the company, one from a nurse in the hospital where he had been recuperating, enclosing one of his handkerchiefs he had left behind him. He was glad to get that for it was the last little thing his mother had sent him, and he prized it very highly. He had left it under his pillow in the hospital, and she had found it when she put fresh linen on the bed.
She was a nice nurse, and had served him well. It was kind of her to take so much trouble for him. He would have to write and thank her, of course.
Then he came to the three little notes: The first one from Amelia, asking him to come over prepared to stay the evening and have dinner with her family. She said they wanted to hear all about his experiences in the war. He frowned, flung down the letter and picked up the next. That was from Lucy Anne Salter. She was inviting him to have lunch with her and her mother on Tuesday noon, and divulging cleverly that she had borrowed her grandmother’s car for the afternoon and they were going to take a drive over to the neighboring navy camp that wasn’t too far away. They would return in time for dinner at the inn and see a movie for the close of the evening.
Barney tossed the letter after the other one and began to laugh.
“What is this, Roxy, a conspiracy? Or is it a social club? Wait! Here’s another! From Martha and Madge Wrexall, as I live! They want me for an all-day picnic at Hunter’s Park, dancing in the evening in the pavilion. Special war music for the soldiers! Can you beat it, Roxy? What do they think I am? Why a strong man couldn’t stand all that, and here I am invalided home!”
Roxy sat grimly disapproving with anxiety written across her loving face.
“I could tell we weren’t done with that crowd yet,” she said with a sigh. “What are you going to do, lad? You couldn’t stand all that froth. I could tell by your eyes after their first raid on you. You better take to your bed for a while and let me tell them you are sick.”
“Not on your life, Roxy! Let that gang drive me to bed? Not if the court knows itself, and she thinks she does. No, I’ll just write a nice little note to each one and tell them I’m having to run down to Washington on business, and when I get back I shall be much too busy to accept social engagements. How will that do? Of course, I hate to hurt some of those people, but I just can’t take it. They aren’t my kind, Roxy.”
“I should say not,” said Roxy indignantly. “But they think just because you wear a uniform you ought to be willing to go the whole way and have a regular riot-act while you’re here.”
“Well, they’ll find out they’re mistaken,” said Barney, striding over to his mother’s desk and opening a drawer where he knew she always kept writing paper.
He sat for a few minutes scratching away with his fountain pen, and soon presented Roxy with appropriate answers declining all his invitations.
“There! See how they sound, will you? And then will you kindly give them to the postman when he comes, so he can deliver them before the evening? Especially that one for tonight—Amelia’s. And meantime I’m taking the train right now for Washington, see? You don’t know how long I have to stay. Tell them I have an appointment with an admiral down there, and I’m not sure when I shall get back, so you can’t make any promises for me. I shall be very busy when I come back. Maybe by and by I’ll have a party myself, and invite them all, but if I do, I’ll set the program my way, and I don’t mean maybe. See?”
“Yes, I see,” said Roxy, with a troubled look. “And I’ll do my best, even if Joel and I have to go to bed to get rid of them. But, boy, there’s something else. This morning Mrs. Kimberly telephoned that she was having a guest someday this week who was going to stay a few days with her, her niece, Cornelia Mayberry, and she was crazy to see you. She said her brother was overseas with you and he had written her to come here and get acquainted with you. Now what shall I say to her? I told her I’d tell you and I thought you’d be glad to see her sometime, but now I better tell her you’re going away and not say anything more about it, hadn’t I?”
Barney looked up startled. “What do you say her name is? Mayberry? Cornelia Mayberry? Why sure, I’ll have to see her. Her brother was one of my closest buddies through all our engagements over there. He used to talk a lot about her. He thought she was tops. You fix it up, can’t you, Roxy? Just because I don’t want to go carousing around with that other gang is no reason I can’t have any friends. And anyway, they don’t need to know everything I do. You know how to be polite and get out of things, I know, Roxy, because you always sent the people home that Mother didn’t want here without making them mad, either. You’d give them each a cookie or something, and they never got mad.”
“Of course,” said Roxy, with a smile.
Then suddenly Barney looked at his watch, and sprang to his feet. “For Pete’s sake! I’m going to miss my train if I don’t hurry. Bye, Roxy! Be a good girl, and don’t worry about me if I don’t come back right away. I’ll be all right, and you know I have to stay as long as they say.”
Then Barney went striding down the road at a good military pace, arrived at the station just two minutes before the train came in, and missed by half a second two of his would-be hostesses. He saw them from the train window and hid behind his morning paper so they wouldn’t see him. In the name of all conscience, why did girls want to make such fools of themselves? Running after a fellow until he wished he had never seen them. Not even gi
ving him a chance to look them over and see if he liked them yet. Then he fell to wondering what Cornelia Mayberry would be like. Would she resemble her brother? He was a good guy, and he was crazy about his sister. He would just have to show her a little attention. How would she fit with Margaret Roselle? Would Margaret like her?
And there was another question: If it turned out that Miss Mayberry was to be in town long and he would be expected to pay her a little attention, what other fellows and girls could he get together? There was Sunny, of course, in case she would be willing to help him, but what fellows were home whom he could call upon? If only Stormy were here he would jump right in and help. Stormy was that way. Good old Stormy! Would he ever see him again?
And then his thoughts merged into a plan for what he would say to the admiral in case he succeeded in seeing him. Oh, if he could only be allowed to go and hunt for Stormy! At least to make sure if he was dead or alive. Praise God, he was in heaven if he had died, but if he was still alive, if only he might rescue him somehow from any unpleasant experience he might be undergoing!
Back in his hometown of Farmdale, a little schoolteacher with bright hair and earnest eyes was praying for him, all day long. Always in between what she was doing she was crying out in her heart to God to keep him, and to help him to get his friend back if he was still in need of help.