The Island of Faith Part 9

"No, my dear," said the Superintendent, "you're not too tired! You just don't want to be civil to a very fine boy--who has had a harder day than either of us. You came to the slums, Rose-Marie, to help people--to show that you were a Christian. I think that you can show it, to-night, by forgetting a silly quarrel that happened weeks ago--by forgetting the words Dr. Blanchard said that he never really meant, inside. If he thought that these people weren't worth it, do you suppose he'd stay here, at the Settlement House, for a mere pittance? He's had many a chance to go to fas.h.i.+onable hospitals, up-town!"

Rose-Marie, bewildered, and not a little ashamed, sank back into her seat as the Superintendent swung open the door.

The Young Doctor came in with a springing step, but there were gray lines that spoke of extreme fatigue about his mouth, and his eyes were darkly circled. His surprise, at the sight of Rose-Marie, was evident--though he tried to hide it by the breeziness of his manner.

"You'll be glad to know," he told the Superintendent, "that the stork has called on the Stefan family. It's a boy--nine pounds--with lots of dark hair. There have been three girls, in the Stefan family," he explained to Rose-Marie, "and so they are wild with joy at this latest addition. Papa Stefan is strutting about like a proud turkey, with his chest out. And Mamma Stefan is trying to sing a lullaby. I feel something like a tool in the hand of Providence, to-night!" He threw himself upon the sofa.

There was deep, motherly affection in the Superintendent's face as she smiled at him.

"We're all of us mental and physical wrecks this evening, Billy!" she said. "I think that I've never been so utterly worn out before. Katie"

(Katie was the stolid maid) "is making chocolate for us!"

"Chocolate!" The Young Doctor's glance answered the affection that shone out of the Superintendent's face--"You _are_ a dear!" He smiled at her, and then--all at once--turned swiftly to Rose-Marie.

"Don't let's squabble to-night," he said childishly, "not about anything!

We're dog-tired, all three of us, and we're not up to even a tiny quarrel. I'm willing to admit anything you want me to--even that I'm wrong on a lot of subjects. And I want you to admit, yourself, that you'd rather be here, with the two of us, than out in some den of iniquity--reforming people. Am I right?"

Rose-Marie felt a glow of friends.h.i.+p toward the Young Doctor. Why couldn't he always be like this--confiding and boyish and approachable?

She smiled at him, very sweetly, as she answered.

"You're right," she admitted. "I'm afraid that I haven't the heart to think of reforming any one, this evening! I'm just glad--glad from the very soul of me--to be here with you all, in the very center of this--island!"

The Superintendent's face was puzzled--the Superintendent's eyes were vague--as she asked a question.

"You said--_island_?" she questioned.

Rose-Marie laughed with a shade of embarra.s.sment.

"I didn't really mean to say island," she explained, "but--well, you remember what Dr. Blanchard told us, once, about the little bugs that fastened together--first one and then another until there were billions?

And how, at last, they made an island?" She paused and, at their nods of a.s.sent, went on. "Ever since then," she told them slowly, "I've thought of us, here at the Settlement House, as the first little bugs--the ones that the others must hold to. And I've felt, though many of them don't realize it, though we hardly realize it ourselves, that we're building an island together--_an island of faith_!"

There was silence for a moment. And then the Young Doctor spoke. His voice was a trifle husky.

"You've made me more than a bit ashamed of myself, Miss Rose-Marie," he said, "and I want to thank you for putting a real symbolism into my chance words. After all"--suddenly he laughed, and then--"after all," he said, "I wouldn't be surprised if you are right! I had a curious experience, this afternoon, that would go to prove your theory."

The Superintendent was leaning back, s.h.i.+elding her eyes from the light.

"Tell us about your experience, Billy," she said.

The chocolate had come, and the Young Doctor took an appreciative sip before he answered.

"Just as I was going out this afternoon," he said, at last, "I ran into a dirty little boy in the hall. He was fondling a kitten--that thin gray one that you brought to the Settlement House, Miss Rose-Marie. I asked him what he was doing and he told me that he was hunting for a Scout Club that he'd heard about. I"--the Young Doctor chuckled--"I engaged him in conversation. And he told me that his ambition was to be a combination of St. George and King Arthur and all the rest of those fellows. He said that, some day, he wanted to be a good husband and father. When I asked him where he got his large ambitions he told me that a lady had given them to him."

Rose-Marie was leaning forward. "Did he tell you the lady's name?"

she breathed.

The Young Doctor shook his head.

"Not a thing did he tell me!" he said dramatically. "The lady's name seemed to be something in the nature of a sacred trust to him. But his big dark eyes were full of the spirit that she'd given him. And his funny little crooked mouth was--" He paused, suddenly, his gaze fixed upon Rose-Marie. "What's the matter?" he queried. "What's the matter? You look as if somebody'd just left you a million dollars!"

Rose-Marie's face was flushed and radiant. Her eyes were deep wells of joy.

"I have every reason in the world," she said softly, "to be happy!" And she was too absorbed in her own thoughts to realize that a sudden cloud had crept across the brightness of the Young Doctor's face.

XIII

ELLA MAKES A DECISION

And then the climax of Ella's life--the crash that Rose-Marie had been expecting--happened. It happened when Ella came furiously into the Volsky flat, early one afternoon, and--ignoring the little Lily, who sat placidly on Rose-Marie's lap--hurried silently into her own room. Mrs.

Volsky, bending over the wash-tubs, straightened up as if she could almost feel the electric quality of the air, as Ella pa.s.sed her, but Rose-Marie only held tighter to Lily--as if, somehow, the slim little body gave her comfort.

"I wonder what's the matter?" she ventured, after a moment.

Mrs. Volsky, again bending over the wash-tubs, answered.

"Ella, she act so funny, lately," she told Rose-Marie, "an' there is some feller; Bennie, he tell me that he have seen her wit' some feller! A rich feller, maybe; maybe he puts Ella up to her funny business!"

There were sounds of activity from the inner room, as if clothing was being torn down from hooks--as if heavy garments were being flung into bags. Rose-Marie listened, apprehensively, to the sounds before she spoke again.

"Perhaps I'd better go in and see what's the matter," she suggested.

Mrs. Volsky, looking back over her shoulder, gave a helpless little shrug. "If you t'inks best," she said hopelessly. "But Ella--she not never want to take any help..."

Only too well Rose-Marie knew what Mrs. Volsky meant by her twisted sentence. Only too well she understood that Ella would never allow herself to be biased by another's judgment,--that Ella would not allow herself to be moved by another's plea. And yet she set Lily gently down upon the floor and rose to her feet.

"I'll see what she's doing," she told Mrs. Volsky, and pushed open the inner door.

Despite all of the time that she had spent in the Volsky flat, Rose-Marie had never been past the front room with its tumbled heaps of bedding, and its dirt. She was surprised to see that the inner room, shared by Ella and Lily, was exquisitely neat, though tiny. There were no windows--the only light came from a rusty gas fixture--but Rose-Marie, after months in the slums, was prepared for that. It was the geranium, blooming on the shabby table, that caught her eye; it was the clean hair-brush, lying on the same table, and the framed picture of a Madonna, upon the wall, that attracted her. She spoke of them, first, to the girl who knelt on the floor, packing a cheap suit-case--spoke of them before she questioned gently:

"You're not going away, are you, Ella?"

Ella glanced up from her packing.

"Yes. I'm going away!" she said, shortly. And then, as if against her will, she added:

"I got th' flower an' th' picture for Lily. Oh, sure, I know that she can't see 'em! But I sorter feel that she knows they're here!"

Rose-Marie's voice was very soft, as she spoke again.

"I'm glad that you chose the picture you did," she said, "the picture of the Christ Child and His Mother!"

Ella wadded a heavy dress into the suit-case.

"I don't hold much with religious pictures," she said, without looking up; "religion never did much fer me! I only got it 'cause th' Baby had hair like Lily's hair!"

Rose-Marie crouched down, suddenly, upon the floor beside the girl. She laid her hand upon the suit-case.