Treasured Brides Collection (21 page)

“But what did she do?” asked the mother, fearful now lest this was another of poor Effie’s escapades that would turn out to be not half so praiseworthy as the stranger seemed to think.

The caller proceeded to tell the story then to the wondering mother and sister, with all the details which he had gathered from the onlookers. And Mrs. Martin’s eyes grew bright with pleasure over the praise her little girl was getting.

“She was always quite fearless,” said her mother. “I am glad it has served to some good purpose. I have sometimes despaired of her ever growing up and settling down. But I rejoice that my daughter was able to save this dear child’s life.” And she laid her hand tenderly on the little golden head of the boy, who looked up at her with a confiding smile, and said, “Hoss wunned an’ wunned! I awful scared! Dirl ‘top him. Nice dirl ‘top horsey!”

When the callers finally left, promising to come again and thank the young lady personally, Eleanor stood watching them ride away with stormy eyes.

“Weren’t there any men around to catch that horse without Effie having to rush forward and make a display of her riding? Effie is always putting herself forward. Here, let’s see what she’s got. Some worthless trinket, I suppose. Such people think they can discharge a debt like that with a few words and a plaything.” And with a most disagreeable expression on her face, she reached out her hand to take the package her mother held.

“Eleanor!” said her mother sternly. “What can have come over you? I am thoroughly ashamed of your actions. You will most certainly not open your sister’s package! It is hers to open when she comes.” And her mother left Eleanor feeling very uncomfortable.

O
ut on the sunny road, under a clear blue sky, with a pleasant morning before her, rode Effie. At another time, she might have stopped to think what the girls would say when they saw her companion, and she would have had a feeling of triumph. But her humiliation had been so recent, and this young man’s coming had been so like an angel to her in her utter self-abasement, that she looked upon him with a sort of awe and desired only that she might be worthy of this morning’s great honor. So it was that she rode calmly by the Garner’s place and never saw the two girls sitting on the wide front porch, nor noticed Janet Chipley and Maud Bradley coming down the street, until her companion lifted his hat. She raised her eyes then, and when she saw who they were, the color flamed into her face. Lawrence Earle noticed it, but gave no sign. He had had a purpose in directing their course around this way. A young cousin of his, quite close to the little Chipley sister and the little Garner sister, had unfolded some of her beliefs regarding Effie Martin to him at dinner the night before, when he had told his mother of his afternoon’s experience and the young girl’s part in it.

“Cousin Lawrence,” she had said earnestly, “I think those girls treat Effie Martin real mean. They wouldn’t let her go with them yesterday. I heard them talking. They say she climbs trees and bites her nails and isn’t old enough. But I know she wanted to go real bad. Don’t you think they were mean? They wanted you though, real much. I heard them say you would be the lion of the ‘casion.”

He laughed at the little maid’s earnestness, but some inkling of Effie’s feelings and what she had been through began to dawn on him, and his indignation grew toward those other girls, who he felt needed a lesson. Therefore, he rode with Effie through the main part of town. But out upon the smooth country road, two good miles between themselves and all disagreeable circumstances or memories, he made her forget herself and think only of the beauties about her. He even quoted one or two rare bits of poetry, in order to watch her face and see if their beauty touched her soul and awakened an answering chord. And he enjoyed her wonder and evident delight in all he said. He also discovered that she had been no mean reader herself, for a girl who made no pretension to things literary.

They had a most delightful morning. Euphemia felt that she never had enjoyed herself so much before. It was on her way back that she summoned courage to ask a question. “Would you mind telling me just what you meant yesterday by repeating that verse? How could I make my name fit? I hunted out the verse last night, but I’m not sure I understand.”

“Certainly,” said he, his face lighting up at her question. “Suppose we stop under this tree and you read the verse for yourself in the original. I always carry my little Greek Testament with me in my pocket.”

“Oh, but I can’t read Greek, you know.”

“Perhaps not, but I think you can read your own name. It is in that verse. Do you know that it’s there in the form you wear it in your name? ‘Whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are
’ Those are the exact words.”

They stopped under a chestnut tree, and the young man took out of his pocket a copy of the New Testament in Greek that looked as if it had seen much use. He opened to chapter and verse, as if he knew the way to it well, and pointed out the words to her, reading slowly until she recognized her own name in the strange Greek characters.

“You see,” he said, looking at her eagerly, “all the things which go to make up a good report are summed up here: to be true, to be honest, to be just, to be pure, to be lovely. If we are all these, we are sure to have a pretty good report given of us. But the trouble is most of us are not all, nor even many, of these things all the time. And we find it quite impossible of ourselves to be either, so what are we to do? The Book says, ‘think on these things.’ You know, one’s character generally takes color from what one thinks about most. If I think about and love the world, I am worldly. If I think about evil, I make it easy for evil to develop in me. Now, if you think much on these things that are Christly, they are likely to grow in you so that you literally become
of good report. But that is not all. Did you notice the last clause in the next verse? ‘And the God of peace shall be with you.’ So, you see, you don’t have to do it alone. It would be utterly impossible to grow Christly by our own efforts. It is really Christ who works it in us, Christ dwelling in us. And when you begin to ‘think on these things,’ you open your heart for the Christ to come in and dwell there. And He has promised to keep your heart in all peace.”

It was all new to Euphemia. She listened with her soul in her eyes, and afterward she could shut her eyes and seem to remember every inflection, every flash of his eyes, and every curve of his lips as he spoke the words that seemed to mean so much to him. He seemed so eager to impart his own knowledge to her.

All too soon the morning was gone, and they drove back to the Earle house for lunch, and now indeed Euphemia had a taste of unsought triumph. For the Garner girls and Maud Bradley and Janet Chipley came driving past, just as Lawrence Earle turned into his own driveway. And they all saw that the despised Effie Martin was with him, and that they were laughing and talking as if they had been having a good time together. And he was taking her home to lunch! That was plain to be seen, for Mrs. Earle was even then on the porch, waiting to receive her guest. The traffic lights held the girls until they had seen Mrs. Earle come forward and greet Effie affectionately, as if she quite expected her and was pleased at her coming.

“Did you ever!” said Janet Chipley crossly. “Well, he always was odd! So that’s that! Effie Martin, of all girls! But, of course, he doesn’t know what she is!”

“Oh, he’ll find out soon enough,” prophesied Ethel Garner. “Effie Martin can’t keep herself in the background long.”

But what they did not know was that Effie Martin was gone, and there was to be in her place Euphemia Martin, a different girl, as different as if she had indeed been born again.

The beautiful day was over at last, and Lawrence drove her home, leaving her at her father’s door with the promise of coming for her soon again.

Effie came slowly into the house, thinking of all the happy, helpful day, and wondering how she should begin to live her new lesson when she was met by Johnnie, bursting at every pore with information and curiosity.

“I say, Eff, hustle along, there, won’t you? There’s a package here for you, and Ma wouldn’t let us open it till you came. A fellow in a big swell car and a pretty little boy that looked like a girl was here and left it for you. Say, I think you were real mean not to say a word about that runaway. You must have had a regular picnic of a time.”

She opened the little white box wonderingly, and found inside another white box of velvet lined with blue, and in this lovely case, a tiny platinum wristwatch, set about with jewels, tiny diamonds, and sapphires. And on the back it was inscribed: To E
UPHEMIA
M
ARTIN, IN GRATEFUL ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF HER BRAVE ACTION IN SAVING THE LIFE OF
C
LINTON CARROL
.

She looked long at the dainty, jeweled timepiece and the inscription. Here was a testimony to at least one good action she had done. This “Euphemia” inscribed on the precious metal surely meant “of good report.” She looked at it so long and so thoughtfully that the others, who were impatient to see it, pressed closer and took it from her, and as they handed it from one to another, exclaimed over its beauty and the bounty of the giver and what the younger ones termed “Eff’s luck.” She slipped out from among them, leaving it still in their hands, and stood looking out the window, deeply stirred. What a lovely thing had come to her as a sort of seal and memorial of the new life she was going to try to live.

She was roused from her thoughts by her sister Eleanor’s words, “The idea of giving a child like you such a magnificent jeweled watch! It will never be of the least use in the world to you. It’s too fine for you to wear. Where would you ever go, to dress up enough for that? And when would you ever get the silks and velvets fine enough to wear with it? You’ll just have to consider it a medal of good behavior. Perhaps by and by, when he moves away and forgets about it, you might sell it and get something worthwhile.”

“Humph!” said Johnnie, looking at her curiously. “I bet you’d wear it quick enough wherever you went if you got it. You’d never think anything too fine for you. Gee whiz! A thing like that’s fine enough without any silks and velvets. I think I see you swelling round with it on! You better put it away carefully, Eff, or you’ll find it ‘out for the evening’ some of these fine times when Nell goes to a party.”

He was interrupted in this speech by a stinging slap on his cheek, followed by a box on his ears, and Eleanor blazed angrily at him for being an impudent little boy. In the midst of this, Effie took her beautiful watch and fled to her own room. She had been very happy but a moment before, but now her happiness was clouded. She had seen like a flash, since she turned from the window at her sister’s words, two distinct ways in which she might work out that “whatsoever things are lovely,” and she did not want to work them out. She sat down in her little rocker by the window to think and to look at the beautiful watch. That seemed to embody to her the first thing. She had seen that Eleanor liked the watch and would enjoy it very much if it were hers. Of course, she could not give it away when the gentleman had given it to her. That would not seem right, but she might lend it to her sister sometimes. That seemed a hard thing indeed to her. Her pride and her love of possession and carefulness for her watch all clamored together in her against such a proceeding. Why was it necessary? Eleanor had a watch of her own for which she had saved the money from the small handfuls that fell to her share. She never would allow Effie to wear it. In fact, Eleanor had never shown any great amount of love for Effie. Why should she put herself out for her? Ah, “whatsoever things are lovely”! If she would win love, she must be lovely. It would be lovely to give Eleanor this pleasure sometime.

She put her watch away with a sigh at last, wondering if she ever could come to that sacrifice and resolving to think it out and try to do what was right. There was yet another subject to hold her thoughts—her brother Johnnie. Could she help him in any way? He and she had always been more nearly like companions than she and Eleanor, in spite of the difference in their ages. She knew she had some influence over Johnnie. Perhaps she could win him to be a better boy. Then she thought of the words Lawrence Earle had spoken that morning about God being with you, “that God of peace,” and she remembered how many times she had heard people talk about having “the peace which passeth understanding.” How she wished she had it! How glad she would be to know and feel that the God of peace was beside her, and that she might look up to Him as she had done to the young man and ask Him to show her where to go and what to do! He would love her. She felt sure He would. Perhaps it was true that He was beside her now and this throb of something strange like a new joy was His smile as He told her He was glad she wanted His love.