THE CHRISTMAS BRIDE (29 page)

“Except once in the station flivver, Rebecca—don’t forget that.” Her husband laughed.

To Greg that service in a little country church by the roadside was a sacred thing. He worshiped in the song and prayer, entering into the spirit of true worship; and he thrilled to look at the faces of his companions, the older ones sweet and chastened and yet peaceful, the young one strong and brave and lovely! He felt a great happiness welling up within him. And though the preacher was old and weary and a little bit monotonous and the singing was anything but cultured, it all seemed beautiful to Greg.

There never could have been a better turkey more perfectly cooked than the one they ate that afternoon, for nobody could make better stuffing than Grandmother Lorimer, and Greg had provided everything possible in the way of materials so that she lacked nothing to her hand. The mashed potatoes were like velvet, but no smoother than the deep yellow of the baked Hubbard squash, a dish that Greg had never tasted before. The cranberries were clear like rubies, done in the old-fashioned way with plenty of translucent juice and the skins cooked tender and candied and left in. Rebecca Lorimer’s mincemeat was delectable.

“I am sure we shall need nothing more to eat for a week!” said Greg as he finally refused another helping of pie. “It’s been wonderful! It’s been a dinner to remember. Now, would it be in the nature of a crime if we all just left this table as it is for a couple of hours and took a ride? There’s going to be a fine moon coming up, and I thought we could stay out and see it rise.”

So they spread a fine, old linen tablecloth over the table and left it, though there wasn’t such a thing as a mouse in the whole of the old house, and they had a wonderful ride around the country and over the rugged hills, ending with the panorama of the moonrise.

Margaret sat in the backseat with her grandmother, her hand softly folded in the old lady’s. Just for that happy Thanksgiving Day the shadow of the impending mortgage was banished and there was a look of great peace on the old lady’s face.

When they reached home and the dishes were done, there was that sweet family worship again. Greg treasured every minute of it, the psalm that was read and the old saint’s prayer, leaving everything in the hands of the Lord. Greg thought he could envision the shadow of that mortgage behind the earnest petition, and the paper in his pocket almost burned its way out, but he bided his time. He would like to have relieved his anxiety at once, but he was afraid lest he see the old pride would be hurt, so he refrained.

Greg did a good deal of thinking and planning that night as he lay in the south chamber with a real feather bed under him and homespun blankets over him, the wind whistling around the corners of the house. It must be cold indeed up here in the mountains when real winter came down.

Greg had not the heart to take Margaret away from the old people at once, or he would have hastened away in the morning to begin to work out his plans. So he let himself be persuaded to stay another day, and he and Margaret spent much of the day together out of doors. Sometimes when he had to help her up a steep place, he thought how very sweet it was to be with her, and he held her hand close to help her and kept it just a little longer, perhaps, than was necessary. Then he would remember how she had once run away from him, and he would release her quickly and try to make it seem that it had not been.

Margaret, with her grandmother’s warning in her ears, and her own conscience alert to warn, yet felt the joy of his touch and the strength of his arm beneath her own and could not but think how wonderful it was to walk thus with a companion so attractive.

Then when that great thrill of joy would rush over her as they walked close together through a narrow pass and he seemed to be guarding her so carefully from the roughness of the way, she would reproach herself and remind her heart that he was just a nice boy on an outing and that she was really his secretary, just his secretary and nothing else, entertaining him in payment for his having brought her home for Thanksgiving. And they would walk demurely into the house, with only the shine of her eyes and the rose of her cheeks to tell tales to the sharp, old eyes of the grandmother who watched her beloved child so anxiously.

That evening Greg told them of Rhoderick Steele and his friendship and then of his own business and how it had grown out of a talk that they had. The old man listened and nodded approval, added his word concerning prophecy and the signs of the times, and prayed again that night at worship for Greg and his work and for the part their precious grandchild had in carrying out such a wonderful testimony for the Lord Jesus Christ.

“And now,” said Greg, as they were about to retire for the night, “I’m inviting you both to a Christmas party! Will you come?”

The old people beamed on him lovingly. They thought he was joking.

“But I mean it,” he said, “I’m throwing a party for Christmas. It’s a house party, and it’s going to last quite a while. I’m going to try to get Rhoderick Steele to come to it, too. I want you to know him.”

“Well, that would be wonderful, son,” said the old man, smiling wistfully, “but I guess that’s impossible. Maybe you can bring him up here to visit us someday when summer comes and it’s nice and pleasant here. You know Mother and I are old people, and we aren’t much at traveling around anymore. Beside, we haven’t the money. We may as well tell the truth. We’d enjoy it, I know, but it wouldn’t be possible.”

Grandmother said nothing, only just stood wistfully smiling and trying not to let tears show through the smile.

“Oh, but,” said Greg, “you know Margaret and I are coming up after you. Aren’t we, Margaret?” He had not been calling her Margaret before, and it made her cheeks rosy to hear it. “We’re driving up a week or so before Christmas, and we’re going to take you back with us. We’d take you down with us tomorrow, only I haven’t got my place fixed up yet, and perhaps you’d want a little time to put away your things and park Sukey down with Sam Fletcher.”

“Oh–h–h!” breathed Grandmother in a kind of awe.

But Grandfather continued to smile as if at an impossibility.

“Well now, my dear fellow! That’s a wonderful offer for you to make, but of course we couldn’t let you do it. What would you do with two old parties like Mother and myself? We’re antiquated you know, and as shabby as if we came out of the ark. We haven’t even money this winter to buy suitable clothes for a visit to the city. We thank you with all our hearts—don’t we, Rebecca?—and appreciate your suggestion, but we’ll just have to wait till you can come and see us again, and we hope it will be mighty soon.”

Grandmother’s eyes grew suddenly clouded with the old question that troubled Eve in the Garden of Eden. She looked down at her seedy black alpaca dress and realized that she was unfit for house parties.

But Greg was not to be put off this easily. He sat down again and began to explain.

“You see, this isn’t a regular house party. It’s not a fashion show, and we want you just as you are. We’re not inviting people who have fine clothes. My friend Steele I hope can come, but he’s quite hard up himself, so you needn’t mind him, and if we have anybody else there, it will be sure to be somebody who is poor and needs a little cheer at Christmas, and we want you to come and help make it pleasant for them.

But most of all, we want you for yourselves. I’ve not had any Christmas myself for ten long years, and I want one. You are necessary to my plans for a real home Christmas. I’ve never known a grandmother and grandfather of my own, and now I want to adopt you if you’ll let me.”

They argued for nearly an hour, and Margaret had to add her pleadings before the old couple finally gave in and gave a tacit consent to at least think about it. But the last thing Greg said as he took his candle and went up the winding, old stairs to his room was, “Then that’s settled. We’ll come up for you. And we’ll come in plenty of time to have a few days of real snow in the mountains. It must be great here in the winter!”

Grandmother was up early, having plotted silently the night before to have a good, hot breakfast. She already had a wonderful lunch put up, and she was bustling around, trying to smile and keep back the tears, when the rest came down.

They made a merry time of it getting off, though Margaret and her grandmother had to keep from weeping.

“It won’t be long,” said Margaret, smiling brightly as she got into the car at last. “We’ll be coming back after you very soon, you know, and we’re going to be together Christmas!”

So they drove off into the dawn, and the old people stood at their mountain door shading their eyes and watched them drive away. Then they turned back to their empty house once more and tried to get back the sense of contentment they had had together before those two young things came to surprise them.

“He’s a fine young man,” said Grandfather, sitting down to drink another cup of coffee, for he had been too excited to really eat much breakfast. “He’s going to do a great work. He’s left me a lot of his little books that he’s circulating among ministers and church members, trying to give a real message to people who have been lulled to sleep by the modern preaching. It’s a wonder, too, for the dear fellow hasn’t known much of the truth very long himself. That man Steele who brought him to the light must be a great fellow. I’m looking forward to meeting him at Christmas myself.”

So Grandmother knew that Grandfather really was contemplating the Christmas party, and she hugged the hope to herself, and the house no longer seemed desolate. She would go to work that very morning getting ready. She had thought of a way in the night that she could turn her black alpaca, put one breadth upside down, and make it quite wearable again. And there were some of John’s shirts that needed to have their collars and cuffs turned to make them respectable. She would sponge and press his suit, too, and mend his overcoat. Oh, they would make out! And there would be some little things around the house that she could hunt out and burnish up that would do for Christmas gifts. That little leaved table that Mr. Sterling had admired so much. Perhaps they could manage to take that along. Or some of the old books. Oh, there would be ways to find Christmas gifts, and Grandmother cleared off her table quite happily, even humming a little tune softly. Grandfather smiled as he came in from the barn. Mother wasn’t going to grieve after her girl after all. And she seemed to have forgotten the mortgage was due. Should he take what money he had, the twenty-five dollars Margaret had sent, and the thirty she had left her Grandmother at leaving, and go down to Elias Horner today, or should he wait another day? It wasn’t half enough for the interest, and he had very little hope that the man who wanted Sukey was going to be able to pay for her, or that the woman who had wanted the furniture was going to respond to their offer, but perhaps he ought to wait another day.

So he sat down with the old Bible and opened it to the one hundred and twenty-first psalm they had read before the children left, and there to his surprise was a long manila envelope lying between the pages! He took it up and turned it over curiously, wondering how it got there. He had seen Greg looking again at the psalm after they had finished worship. He had told him it was the psalm of the traveler, and Greg had said he wanted to remember that.

“Why, Rebecca, what’s this?” said the old man in great excitement. “Here’s an envelope addressed to me. Did you put it here?”

“No,” said the old lady coming quickly to look over his shoulder. “What is it? Is it something Mr. Sterling left behind?”

But even after his trembling hand had opened it and taken out the contents, it was some minutes before the old man took in just what it meant, and the old lady gazed at the legal document in bewilderment.

“Is it something important?” she asked. “Should we get Sam Fletcher to see if he can ride down and telephone somewhere to stop him?”

“Rebecca!” said the old man, suddenly reaching out his arm and drawing his old wife to his side. “Rebecca! Do you know what this means? It means our mortgage is paid off! It’s
paid
! Rebecca! Every cent! We don’t even have to pay the interest! The farm is saved! Praise the Lord. Let’s kneel right down and thank Him!”

So down they got, and the old man thanked his heavenly Father with tears in his eyes and a song in his voice.

“But I don’t understand,” said the old lady as they got up from their knees. “Who did it? Who paid it?”

“Why, our heavenly Father, of course.” The old man smiled. “All the silver and the gold are His, and the cattle upon a thousand hills!”

“Yes, of course, but how did He do it? Who did He work through?”

“Well, I suppose through that dear young fellow,” said the old man, brushing the mist from his eyes and studying the paper again. “His name isn’t on it, but he’s the only one who could have done it. Margaret was as much troubled as you and I. She didn’t have the money.”

“You don’t think she got it fixed with a new mortgage, do you?”

“No,” said the old man, “she couldn’t. I’d have had to sign a new mortgage, because I’m the owner. No, it’s paid off all right, and I don’t believe Margaret even knows it yet!”

“You don’t!” said the old lady. “Well, he is just a precious young man. How wonderful! And he knew he’d done that all the time he was urging us to visit him at Christmas! Well, we’ll
have
to go now, won’t we, John?” she asked eagerly.

“Well, yes, I guess we should go,” he said thoughtfully. “In fact, he really seemed to
want us
, and I guess it is God’s leading.”

“I wonder why he does it,” said the old lady. “Do you think he’s getting fond of our Margaret? Is he doing it to please her?”

“I don’t know, Rebecca,” said the old man cautiously. “I wouldn’t get that idea in my head. It might bring disappointment. Our girl is a good levelheaded girl. She won’t let her heart get her into any trouble. Don’t you worry. And they just seemed to me like a pair of sensible young people. I think that young man is just trying to be kind. But I’ve been thinking, Mother: if we go down to visit him at Christmas, maybe I could find some kind of a clerical job and make enough to pay him a little every month till we get it paid off.”