Partners (5 page)

After a little she got up and went to a cheap restaurant for a very cheap dinner. She mustn't spend what she had in a hurry. But as she went she kept breathing softly under her breath: "Dear God, I'm trusting You to take care of me. I can't feel it's true, but I'm going to trust You, and I want to try to do what You want me to do."

That night she went to bed at once when she got back to the house. She would have paid her landlady for the week in advance, but Mrs. Beck had gone to the movies, and "gramma" had the door locked and didn't want to get up to unlock it, so Dale went to bed, too, and went sound asleep before the roomers got back from their various occupations. Her mind, for the time being at least, had found a place to rest.

When Dale awoke in the morning she had forgotten all about her prayer, and half wondered at herself that she seemed to have lost that sense of heaviness and worry. Things were just as they were the night before, and she supposed she ought to fret and try to think a way out of her difficulties, but somehow the day seemed more hopeful than any day yet, and there wasn't any reason for it to be so, either. Not a reason that seemed sensible.

She got up, put on her cereal to cook, and made the coffee. Her breakfast tasted good to her.

When she had finished she cleared away everything and then hurried down to pay her landlady and prevent another visit from her if possible.

Mrs. Beck was honey itself when she saw the money, and produced a pair of blankets that looked as if they hadn't seen really very hard wear yet. Though Dale resolved that she would hang them out the window after dark and let them get a good airing before she used them. Mrs. Beck tried to make Dale sit down and have a little chat, did her best to find out where she had been hunting for a job and whether she had succeeded in getting one yet, but Dale only lingered by the door a minute and evaded her questions very cleverly.

"I must hurry," she said, "I have things to do this morning. And, Mrs. Beck, that stove still smokes. Did you do anything about it yet?"

"Well, no," said Mrs. Beck, "I hadta go out last night, but I'll see to it right away this morning."

But Dale had got only halfway up the stairs before she heard the telephone ring in Mrs. Beck's part of the house, and just a moment later came Mrs. Beck's voice calling:

"Miss Hathaway, oh, Miss Hathaway! Somebody wants ya on the phone! I think he's in a hurry!"

Breathless, Dale turned and sped downstairs. What could that mean? Who could possibly be calling her? There wasn't anyone in the city who would be likely to call her, and no one in her old home that knew where she was! It was very strange. It was almost as if God Himself was calling her in answer to her queer little prayer of the night before. Her hand trembled as she took up the receiver, and her voice was shaky as she answered: "Yes?"

The telephone was in the middle room. Mrs. Beck was lingering close to the kitchen door, her ear to the crack, listening, and "gramma" was in the front room with her ear to the crack, and one eye also. They had taken the precaution to open the door half an inch before Dale got down there, and they were pretty well versed in translating the rumble of the phone into real words when their roomers were called to the telephone.

"This is John Ward, teller in the First National Bank," said the voice on the wire.

"Yes, Mr. Ward?" said Dale, and guarded the sudden enthusiasm in her voice so that it sounded almost matter-of-fact.

"Well, if you aren't satisfied yet I think I have heard of something you might like. Are you going to be down this way this morning?"

"Yes, Mr. Ward, I am."

"Could you make it about eleven?"

"Yes, Mr. Ward, I'll be there. It's very kind of you to let me know."

"That's all right, Miss Hathaway. I hope it proves to be what you want."

The soft click announced the end of the conversation, and the two listeners turned away disappointed.

Mrs. Beck was on hand in the hall as Dale hurried away.

"Thank you, Mrs. Beck," she said as she fairly flew up the stairs.

"Oh, that's all right," said Mrs. Beck raising her voice to suit the tempo of Dale's footsteps. "I hope it wasn't any unpleasant message?" she added hopefully.

"Oh, no, just a matter of business," said Dale, and closed her door on the disappointed voice.

Five minutes later Dale hurried downstairs and out the door, and both Beck ladies hurried to the front room windows and took account of her apparel.

"She's got on another dress and hat," said Mrs. Beck. "It isn't the one she wore when she came here."

"Oh, yes, it is," said the old grandmother. "You can't fool me. I don't suppose she's got more than one hat anyway. She didn't show any hat boxes or any signs of another hat when she come. I was watching behind the curtain and I know."

"Well, anyhow, she's all spruced up. She looks ta me as if she's going out fer a new job. I hope she gets it. She's a right nice looker. I shouldn't liketa havta turn her away, not as hard as jobs is ta find taday."

"Well, you can't afford to keep folks that don't pay, Molly."

"No, I know I can't," sighed the woman. "But she is right nice lookin'. Seems like she was what they call sophisticated, an' that allus gives tone to a house. It brings a good class of roomers."

"Yes," said the old lady in a tone that could whine as easily as not on the very slightest provocation.

Dale walked briskly into the sunshine of the morning and recalled the tone of the teller's voice as he spoke to her. He hadn't said much, but somehow it cheered her. And a sudden thought came to her. Was it possible that God had done this? Was He trying to show her that He really cared? Oh, if this should turn out to be something good she would always be sure that God had heard and God really cared, and that He had spoken to her through this. But she mustn't think too much about it yet. It might turn out to be something impossible.

So she entered the back with a gentle poise about her that made a nice impression on the businessman who stood at one side waiting for her.

It wasn't a permanent job. The man wanted someone to fill the place of his own private secretary who had been taken ill and must go away for a rest for an indefinite time, several weeks, or even months. He could not tell how long he would need her. But he would be glad to recommend her afterward to someone else if she had done her work well. It was on the whole a better thing that she could have hoped for. The pay was not large, but it was enough to meet her expenses, and perhaps she could save a little if she tried. And she might begin at once!

She went to her new job walking as if on winged feet.

The work was not difficult because of her experience in the Baker office, and moreover this new job was better organized. The office and filing cabinets and other arrangements were much more complete and convenient. She sat down to her work with great relief and joy, and now and again it would come to her that God really cared.

Late in the afternoon Mr. Ward, the teller from the bank, called on the telephone asking her to stop at the bank on her way home and get a letter that had been sent in the care of the bank.

Wondering greatly, Dale went around by way of the bank and found Mr. Ward waiting for her at the door to hand her the letter. She stopped in the little park to read it.

It was from a firm of lawyers in the far west, and it appeared that a half brother of Dale's father who had died a few years ago had at the time of her birth put a small sum of money at interest in her name, and from time to time had added small sums. It was to be handed over to her when she came of age. They knew that her twenty-first birthday would occur very soon, and they were anxious to get in touch with her now that they might put it in her charge as soon as the day came. Her old home address of course had not reached her, and when they wrote to the Baker address their letter had been returned.

This was the first realization Dale had that she was practically isolated in the world, with not even any old acquaintances knowing her address. She must write to the old hometown post office and give them her present address, that is, as soon as she was sure she was going to stay here.

The lawyers had had no little trouble in discovering what had become of her, until they had been able to find out what bank the Bakers had dealt with, and so now they were asking Dale to send them identification papers from someone in that bank who knew her.

Breathlessly she gathered up her papers. Why, here was another answer to her prayers of the night before! Money! Of course, it might not be much, but she had not asked for much. But if this half uncle had only put in ten dollars every year, it would be over a hundred dollars now, with the interest, and that would be wonderful. If she had even that much to fall back on, it would ease her mind greatly.

But more wonderful than the material good was the assurance in her soul that God had really heard her sorrowful weary plea and that He
did care
. With that belief an established fact she could go forward and trust.

Or would the job have come anyway whether she prayed or not? As if her little prayer could have brought the job! Or the letter about a little money! That was what reason clamored into her ears as she started down the street to her rooming house.

But no, there was a new understanding between her heart and God now. Perhaps God had indeed been meaning to do these things for her, even before she prayed, but by answering her definitely this way He had established a contact with her soul to make her sure that He was thinking of her! That was it. Maybe He really wanted her fellowship, really cared what an unknown, unloved young girl felt about Him! Oh, that was a
wonderful
idea! God caring about her, wanting to be her Friend!

And now, there was only one other thing she had asked for, a friend! Just someone to speak to, and smile to across the hard days. But, maybe that would come later!

As she passed a fruit store she remembered that she would soon be almost out of oranges, and there were some lovely ones that seemed to be cheap. She would celebrate by getting a whole dozen. She had to work hard now, and must be well fed to keep herself in good condition to do her best.

So she bought her oranges and started on, a happy smile on her face. Life wasn't going to be so terrible after all if God was caring, and little nice things could happen to her.

But the oranges were heavy and the package was awkward to carry. The bag seemed to be made of very flimsy paper. Twice the package almost slipped from her arms, and she had to walk steadily to keep the oranges from brimming over the top and careening along the sidewalk. Well, it was only a half block more! She would soon be there!

She eased one weary arm as she reached the steps, and the top edge of the bag ripped down five inches. Oh! She paused and tried to readjust the package. Someone was coming out of the house, but she could not look up. She had to walk very carefully lest that bag would give way and send her oranges all abroad. Then suddenly like a petulant child who wasn't getting its own way the bag tore relentlessly in three or four places and ripped halfway down one side. The oranges went catapulting out, bouncing on the steps and everywhere; one rolled out and down across the sidewalk to the gutter!

In horror she clutched the rest of them in one arm and tried to reach for a couple that were on the step just before her, for that someone, whoever it was, was coming down the steps. A man. She must clear them out of his way!

But then the rest of the oranges like naughty children who had got the upper hand, leaped out and went abroad in every direction, and Dale was left clutching a limp empty paper bag and looking foolishly up at the young man above her.

It was the young man who occupied the third-story front, the one Mrs. Beck had called George Rand, and he had a nice grin on his face. His eyes were kind.

"Hold everything!" he cried, and stooping over began to pick up oranges and stow them in the newspaper he had been carrying under his arm, spreading it handily on the second step.

"Oh! Thank you!" said Dale breathlessly. "But please don't trouble. It was my awkwardness."

"Oh, no!" said the young man with more grin. "It was the thinness of the paper bag. Too bad! I'm afraid some of these will need a bath after this." And he turned and picked two out of the gutter.

She reached to take them from him, but he evaded her.

"Oh, no," he said pleasantly. "I'm carrying them up for you. You can't be trusted with them, they're too wet and dirty. Besides they are full of mischief and will run away at the slightest provocation. Lead the way, will you?"

"Oh, that's very kind of you," said Dale, "but really that's not necessary. Just lend me your newspaper till I dump them in my room and I'll bring it right down to you."

"Don't worry about the paper," he said. "I was through with it anyway. But I'm carrying these oranges home, see? I claim it as my right."

He held the door open for her, smiling, with a determined expression on his pleasant lips, and there was nothing for her to do but walk in.

She made a decided stand on the top landing, but he only stepped up beside her, slipped one hand under her elbow to help her, and her pale cheeks flushed rosily.

Downstairs she was suddenly aware of the front room door opening a crack, and a watching eye applied to the crack, so she hastened her steps and arrived a bit breathless at her own door, making as if to take the oranges, but he still held them.

"Open your door," he said. "They'll go all abroad again if you don't."

She was glad to remember that she had left everything in perfect order. But he wasn't looking at the room. He stooped and laid the paper of oranges down on the little table beside her pile of paper and envelopes, and then backing out he lifted his hat, smiled again, and said:

"I guess they can't get away again now, but mind you wash them before you eat them! I wouldn't trust the germs around this street!"

And then he was gone, evading utterly the eager thanks with which her voice endeavored to follow him.