Kerry (26 page)

“Then—please don’t!” said Kerry again firmly.

“But
why?”
he persisted. “I was just being—friendly—and cozy! Everybody does it nowadays. Do you mean they don’t do it over in Europe?”

“I don’t do it,” said Kerry, and then remembered with a sudden quick flash of condemnation that McNair had held her hand once on shipboard. But that was different! Or was it different? What was there different about it? Why had she felt no condemnation? She must put that away and think about it. Maybe it wasn’t different. Maybe she should have done something about that, too. McNair of course was a stranger, too, and nothing to her—at least—Her thoughts were shipboard now, and not in an automobile at all. But the boy by her side was persistent.

“Do you mean you don’t believe in petting? Why not?”

Kerry hesitated, still wondering why this case was so different from the one on shipboard, arguing it out with herself.

“I think,” she said gravely deliberate, still thinking it out, feeling her way as she spoke, “I think, because it is playing with serious things, real things, that usually—only—come once!”

And then her heart leaped up with a secret she did not dare to face just now, and put away hastily in the innermost secrets of her thoughts.

The boy sat looking thoughtfully out across the silver water to the opposite shore where lights gleamed out from windows, and showed here and there a little settlement.

“Well, perhaps you’re right,” said the boy. “Anyhow I think it’s nice you feel that way. I guess you like a girl better if every fellow hasn’t mauled her. But say, I didn’t mean that the way you thought. I was serious all right. I like you better than any girl I ever knew. That’s right, I do! I knew it the minute I came into the dining room this noon! You certainly are a winner!”

Kerry laughed.

“Why, you hardly know me,” she said brightly, “but it’s nice to have you friendly. Of course I like to be liked. But come, let’s talk about something else. What are all those lights down the river there? Why, they seem to be moving.”

“That’s the Hudson River steamer. It goes up to Albany you know. It will go right past us here.”

They watched the boat as it came nearer, moving like a thing of spirit, its many lights gleaming out and separating until it looked like a moving palace.

“What was that dope you were giving back at the clubhouse?” asked Holbrook at last. “It sounded interesting. If it isn’t religion, what is it? Ethical culture or some of those newfangled cults? I’d like to find out what makes you different.”

“Well,” laughed Kerry, “I don’t know that it has had time to make me different yet; I’m quite new to it. And yet, when I come to think of it, it has made everything different for me. I seem to be another person. It’s as if I was born again into a new world. I look at everything in a different way. I never knew before that God was real, and could be realized in everyday life. I never knew that He made us because He wanted our companionship and help, and that we by sinning had made ourselves unfit for such companionship. I didn’t realize either that I was an utter sinner, and that God loved me so much that He sent His only Son and let Him take my place dying that there might be a way for me to be saved.”

“Waddaya mean, ‘saved’? Whaddaya mean, ‘sinner’? I’ll bet a hat you never committed a sin. I don’t see all this talk about sin. I understand nobody believes in it anymore anyway. It’s what you think is right, that’s the dope. Why, I’ve never done anything very bad. Why should I say I’m a sinner? I’ve lived a pretty decent life. Of course I’ve done some petting, and you think that’s all wrong, but I didn’t mean any harm by it. And I don’t tell rotten stories the way most of the fellas I know do. Of course I got into a lot of scrapes at college, but every fella does that. I don’t call that a sin, do you?”

“I have recently come to know,” said Kerry gravely, “that sin is something we are born with, that is a tendency to sin, and that the great sin, the sin of all sins, is unbelief in Jesus Christ the Savior of the world. Unbelief and indifference. Probably all the other things grow out of that.”

“Belief ? Whaddaya mean belief ? I didn’t know anybody believed in that dope anymore, only perhaps a few old ladies and missionaries.”

“Oh, yes, they do!” said Kerry earnestly, “and really, you know, it is the most wonderful thing to believe in. You just accept it, and it makes you all over. It cures your soul, and makes things different. You are ‘born again.’ That’s what the Bible calls it.”

“The Bible!” said the young collegiate. “But that’s all out of date.”

“No, it isn’t really!” said Kerry. “I’ve tried it. It works, just as it says, and it’s the most wonderful up-to-date book I ever read. Why, it not only tells you all about yourself and fits right into your own experiences, but it tells things that are happening right along every day now, things in politics and history, and the way nations are doing things—!”

“Say! What are you giving me! Trying to string me? My psychology professor in college said—!”

“Yes, I know,” said Kerry, “they do, but he didn’t know. He’d never heard of these wonderful things that are being discovered today. But you see I’m very new at this myself. I can’t begin to tell you about it all. I’m just learning myself. But if you are interested there is a man holding meetings at a little church I went to the other night. He is going to be there another week. He is telling me the most wonderful things about the Bible! I know it doesn’t sound much when I try to tell it, but it’s great. And there is just one thing, I know that Jesus Christ has forgiven men, and that I’m a child of God, and it makes all the difference in the world in my life and how I feel about things!”

They sat there a long time talking, while Kerry unfolded to him the simplicity of the Gospel of Christ. He marveled at her words, objecting now and then as modern youth is taught to do, yet unable to answer her simple faith in the simplicity of salvation.

Suddenly Kerry looked at her watch.

“Mercy!” she exclaimed. “Do you know what time it is? Five minutes of two! What will they think of us? It is Sunday morning, and they will all have gone long ago and will wonder where we are. What will your mother think of me?”

“Oh, no they won’t have left the clubhouse yet. They never do Saturday nights till nearly three. But we’ll get right back now. Gosh, you’re a funny girl. It’s been interesting. I don’t know another girl I would have sat with all this time and listened to her talk religion—excuse me, what was it you called it? Christianity! That’s it. But say, it’s good dope. If it was true it would be some fairy tale to live, wouldn’t it? Of course I’m not saying it is, but that dope about the Jews and the nations of Europe, and the chemicals in the Dead Sea are mighty interesting even if they aren’t true. They certainly are coincidences anyway. What did you say the man’s name was that told all these things? I wouldn’t mind hearing him myself sometime. What do you say we drive down there tomorrow if we can find out when he speaks? The paper might tell. Know what church it was?”

“Why, no,” said Kerry. “I haven’t an idea, but I could find it if I was in town.”

“Well, if you’re on deck in time tomorrow morning we’ll drive down to the city and hunt it up. It’ll be okay with me unless you prefer another nine holes of golf in the morning.”

“Why, I’d love to go to the church if you think your mother and sister won’t mind.”

“Oh, they won’t mind! They have a standing date in bed Sunday morning. They don’t expect anybody around before lunchtime.”

Kerry was much relieved to find that the clubhouse was still in full blast when they returned, and the elder Holbrooks had not missed her.

“You looked as fresh as a rose,” said Holbrook senior as he helped her into the car a half hour later. “You, too, Harry. You usually have too many cocktails aboard Saturday night for your own good and others’ comfort.”

“I hope you haven’t had a dull time, not dancing,” said Mrs. Holbrook apologetically, realizing that she had paid very little heed to her young guest.

“I’ve had a wonderful time!” said Kerry happily. “I’ve seen the Hudson by moonlight!”

“Oh, yes,” said the woman of the world sleepily. “I suppose it is rather a sight when one sees it for the first time. I hope Harry hasn’t been a dull escort.”

“Gosh, Mud, you couldn’t be dull with her! She’s got a mind! She’s no end interesting! She’s not like these poor little saps at the clubhouse!”

“Well, son, I’m glad you can still appreciate a good mind when you meet one,” said the father indulgently. Then turning to Kerry: “You must sleep late tomorrow morning. They all do here. Of course I’m off for a little golf early, but you won’t be disturbed.”

But Harry broke in.

“Oh, gosh, Dad, we’ve already got a date for morning. We’re going for a drive. We’ll be home round lunchtime, but don’t mind if we are late. We’ll get some hotdogs or a milk shake on the way if we are hungry.”

“For mercy sake, Harry! Don’t go to dragging Miss Kavanaugh around your favorite haunts,” said his mother, stifling a yawn. “She’ll be bored to death. Let her sleep in the morning.”

“Don’t you worry, Mud. We’ve got an understanding all right. Give you my word I shan’t bore her this time.”

As Kerry, in her luxurious bed, half an hour later, sank away to sleep she found herself thinking about the young son of the house. He was a nice, kind boy. Was he really interested in what they had talked about, or just trying to be good company?

Kerry found him waiting for her in the breakfast room next morning at the hour they had agreed upon. Five minutes later his father walked in clad in golf attire.

His face lit up with pleasure when he saw them.

“Well, this is a delightful surprise,” he said. “I expected to have to eat breakfast alone. Are you doing eighteen holes this morning, too?”

It was the son who answered, virtuously and crisply as if he wished to call attention to the fact.

“No, Dad, we’re going to church.”

“Church!” said the father laughing.
“You
going to church?” He gave a laugh and took it as a joke, but the son’s face was altogether serious.

“Sure, Dad. I mean it.”

Mr. Holbrook’s eyes sought Kerry’s face for an explanation, but Kerry was taking it all quite as a matter of course, and the father sobered instantly.

“Well, I’m sure that’s commendable, especially a nice morning like this. Where are you going? Better choose someplace where they have good music. Remember Miss Kavanaugh has come from Europe where they have the best.”

“We’re going to a church Miss Kavanaugh chose,” said the son importantly. “Somebody from Scotland is speaking there.”

“Ah! I see. Where is it? Fifth Avenue, I suppose.”

“Why, I don’t just know,” said Kerry shyly, “but I am sure I can find it. I went there one night and it’s not far from where I am staying.”

“I see,” said the host, smiling pleasantly. “Well, sorry you’re not to be on the links this morning. We might get Lawson or Rambo and try a foursome. But it’s a nice morning for a drive. Better take the new car, Harry, if you’re going to drive yourself. Mother won’t be wanting it till afternoon.”

So with great joy Kerry rode away into the brilliant spring morning, to find her church again. It seemed almost as if she might be going to find McNair, too, so happy she was.

They had to drive down past her lodging house before Kerry knew which way to direct Holbrook. As they passed, the door opened and Dawson hurried out with a suitcase, looking this way and that before he plunged across the street and around the corner. But for once his uncanny vigilance was at fault. He did not see Kerry, and she shrank back startled. He was not expecting to find her in a seven-thousand-dollar car.

In the end they located the church, after a little skirmishing, and succeeded in getting good seats in the gallery in spite of a big crowd that was already gathering.

“This is a pleasant room,” said Holbrook, looking around interestedly. “Not stuffy like most churches, with dull windows and no sunshine. I declare it looks really cheerful. Though I must confess I haven’t seen the inside of many churches since I was a kid, except for weddings. I wouldn’t expect to find anything as nice as this so far downtown. And what an audience! Gosh! Look at ’em standing up around the walls and sitting on the pulpit steps. Why, it’s like a first night show. Who did you say this guy was? People must know about him.”

Kerry repeated what McNair had told her of the speaker, and he watched him when he came to the platform with real interest.

“I like his mug,” said Holbrook after he had studied him a minute or two, “he looks like a real man. Gosh! He’s homely, isn’t he? But I like him.”

The first burst of the gospel singing seemed to startle the young man, but after a verse or two somebody handed them a book, and she heard his clear baritone joining in with the rest. Somehow it made her very glad to have him take hold and be interested this way. She wondered if there were a possibility that he, too, might learn to know and love the Lord Jesus. She felt that she had found so much in the new life already that she longed to pass it on to someone else. It seemed the only way she could show her gratitude for having found the truth herself. It thrilled her to think that this nice boy had not sneered at her, not turned down the church service.

Young Holbrook listened intently to the prayer and Bible reading, much as if it were all new to him, but when the speaker with the quaint burr on his tongue began to talk, his eyes were fixed upon him in utter absorption. He sat as if fascinated.

Kerry, watching, was glad, and prayed in her heart while she listened, “Oh, Father God, speak to him through this preacher. Help him to find Jesus Christ!”

When the service was over the young man lingered looking wistfully toward the platform where many were thronging the preacher, shaking hands, stopping to talk with him.

“Gosh! I never heard a preacher like that!” said the young man. “He’s human, he is. Gosh if I could hear preaching like that I’d go every Sunday, I swear I would!”

“He’s to be here for another week, I think,” ventured Kerry.

They drove back by the silver river in the bright noon sunshine, talking together quite naturally as other young people might have talked over a movie or the possibility of rain or another war. They were talking of the possibility of the return to earth of One called Jesus.