Part 24 (1/2)

”And you don't mean to tell me you were such a fool as to say he might go?” J. P. Thornton, walking up the hill for the fourth time on the way home from a session meeting with Lawyer Ed, asked the question again in an extremity of indignation.

And Lawyer Ed answered as he had done each time before:

”I couldn't stand in the boy's way, Jack; I just couldn't.”

They had argued the question for an hour, up and down the hills between their two homes, and had come to no agreement. That Roderick had had an offer to tempt any young man there was no doubt. A partners.h.i.+p in the firm of Elliot and Kent, solicitors for the British North American Transcontinental Railroad, was such a chance as came the way of few at his age.

And yet Mr. Thornton declared that he should have refused it unconditionally. Not so Lawyer Ed; his generous heart condoned the boy.

”It's the chance of a life-time, Jack,” he declared. ”It would be shameful to keep him out of it, and, mind you, he wouldn't say he would go until I urged it.”

”Oh, blow him!” J. P. was a very dignified gentleman and did not revert to his boyhood's slang except under extreme provocation. ”He shouldn't have allowed you to urge him. And what about the brilliant prospect you gave up once just because his father was in need?”

”Well, never mind that,” said Lawyer Ed, hurriedly. ”He doesn't know anything about that and he's not going to either.”

”And it was Bill Graham who wanted you, and you wouldn't go. And now Bill's taking him away from you. He ought to be ashamed!”

”Bill thought he was doing me a kindness. He knew Rod's success is mine.”

J. P. was silent from sheer exhaustion of all sane argument. He was grieved and bitterly disappointed for his friend's sake. Ed was in imperative need of a rest and just when life was looking a little easier to him, and the long-deferred holiday was within reach, Roderick was deserting.

If they could only have visited the Holy Land before he left, it would not have seemed so bad. But though Roderick had consented to remain until his chief returned, Lawyer Ed had felt he could not go, for he must busy himself gathering up the threads of his work which he had been dropping with such relief.

Roderick had not come to his final decision without much argument with himself. His head said Go, but he could not quite convince his heart that he was right in leaving Lawyer Ed so soon. He had argued the question with himself during many sleepless nights, but the lure of success had proved the stronger. And he was going late in the autumn to take up his new work.

To Old Angus the news was like the shutting out of the light of day.

Roderick was going away. At first that was all he could comprehend.

But he did not for one moment lose his sublime faith either in his boy or in his G.o.d. The Lord's hand was in it all, he told himself. He was leading the Lad out into larger service and his father must not stand in the way. He said not one word of his own loss, but was deeply concerned over Lawyer Ed's. He was worried lest the Lad's going might mean business difficulties for his friend.

”If the Father will be wanting the Lad, Edward,” he said one golden autumn afternoon, when Lawyer Ed stopped at the farm gate in pa.s.sing, ”then we must not be putting our little wills in His way. I would not be minding for myself, oh, no, not at all--” the old man's smile was more pathetic than tears. ”The dear Lord will be giving me so many children on the Jericho Road, that He feels I can spare Roderick.”

Eddie Perkins was stumbling about the lane trying to rake up the dead leaves into neat piles as Angus had instructed him. He came whimpering up with a bruised finger which he held up to the old man. Angus comforted him tenderly, telling him Eddie must be a man and not mind a little scratch. He looked down at this most helpless of his children and gently stroked the boy's misshapen head.

”Yes, He would be very kind, giving me so many of His little ones to care for, and He feels I can spare Roderick. The Lad is strong--” his voice faltered a moment, but he went on bravely.

”But it was you I was thinking of, Edward. I could not but be fearing that you were making a great sacrifice. There is your visit to the Holy Land--and the business. It will be hard for you, Edward?”

Lawyer Ed, seated in his mud-splashed buggy at the gate, turned quickly away, the anxiety in Old Angus's voice was almost too much for his tender heart. There was a wistful plea in it that he should vindicate Roderick from a shadow of suspicion. He jerked his horse's head violently and demanded angrily what in thunder it meant by trying to eat all the gra.s.s off the roadside like a fool of an old cow, and then he rose valiantly to the Lad's defence.

”Hut, tut, Angus!” he cried bl.u.s.teringly. ”Such nonsense! You know as well as I do that the Lad didn't want to leave. I fairly drove him away. Pshaw! never mind the Holy Land. We're all journeying to it together, anyway. And as for my business--somebody else'll turn up. I always felt Algonquin would be too small for Rod. You'll see he'll make a name for himself that'll make us all proud.”

He did it splendidly, and Angus was comforted. He blamed himself for what he termed his lack of faith in the boy and in his Father. And many a night, as he sat late by his fire, trying to reason himself into cheerful resignation, he recalled Edward's words hopefully. Yes, he surely ought to be proud and glad that the Lad was going out into a wider service. He was leaving him alone, on his Jericho Road, here, but that was only because the Father needed him for a busier highway, where thieves were crueller and more numerous.

As the autumn pa.s.sed and the time for leaving approached, the Lad ran out very often to the farm. His visits were a constantly increasing source of discomfort--both to heart and conscience. His father's gallant attempts at cheerfulness, and his sublime a.s.surance that his son was going away to do a greater work for the Master stung Roderick to the quick. That Master, whom he had long ago left out of his life's plan, had said, ”Ye cannot serve G.o.d and Mammon.” And from even the little Roderick had seen of the affairs of Elliot and Kent, he knew only too well that to serve that firm and humanity at the same time would be impossible.

There were others who did not possess his father's faith in his purpose, and they spoke to him plainly on the matter. J. P. Thornton, remembering indignantly all that Lawyer Ed had once given up for Old Angus's sake, and further maddened by being forbidden to disclose it, expressed his disapproval of Roderick's leaving so soon, in strong incisive terms.

His remarks succeeded only in angering the young man, and making him more determined in his course. Doctor Leslie was the next to speak plainly on the matter, and his kindly, deep-searching words were harder to set aside. Roderick was pa.s.sing the Manse one day when Mammy Viney hailed him.

”Honey, de minesta' want you,” she called, in her soft rich tones.