Part 28 (1/2)

When my mother had peremptorily sent Laurence home to the judge, and carried Mary Virginia off to talk the rest of the night through, I went back to his rooms with John Flint, in spite of the lateness of the hour: for I was uneasy about him.

I think my nearness soothed him. For with that boyish diffident gesture of his he reached over presently and held me by the sleeve.

”Parson,” he asked, abruptly, ”is a man born with a whole soul, or just a sort of shut-up seed of one? Is one given him free, or has he got to earn and pay for one before he gets it, parson? I want to know.”

”We all want to know that, John Flint. And the West says Yes, and the East, No.”

”I've been reading a bit,” said he, slowly and thoughtfully. ”I wanted to hear what both sides had to say. Paul is pretty plain, on his side of the fence. But, parson, some chaps that talk as if they knew quite as much as Paul does, say you don't get anything in this universe for nothing; you have to pay for what you get. As near as I can figure it out, you land here with a chance to earn yourself. You can quit or you can go on--it's all up to you. If you're a sport and play the game straight, why, you stand to win yourself a water-tight fire-proof soul. Because, you see, you've earned and paid for it, parson. That sounded like good sense to me. Looked to me as if I was sort of doing it myself. But when I began to go deeper into the thing, why, I got stuck. For I can't deny I'd been doing it more because I had to than because I wanted to. But--which-ever way it is, I'm paying! Oh, yes, I'm paying!”

”Ah, but so is everybody else, my son,” said I, sadly. ”... each in his own coin. ... But after all isn't oneself worth while, whatever the cost?”

”I don't know,” said he. ”That's where I'm stuck. Is the whole show a skin game or is it worth while? But, parson, whatever it is, you pay a h.e.l.l of a price when you buy yourself on the instalment plan, believe me!” his voice broke, as if on a suppressed groan. ”If I could get it over and done with, pay for my d.a.m.ned little soul in one big gob, I wouldn't mind. But to have to buy what I'm buying, to have to pay what I'm paying--”

”You are ill,” said I, deeply concerned. ”I was afraid of this.”

He laughed, more like a croak.

”Sure I'm sick. I'm sick to the core of me, but you and Westmoreland can't dose me. n.o.body can do anything for me, I have to do it myself or go under. That's part of paying on the instalment plan, too, parson.”

”I don't think I exactly understand--”

”No, you wouldn't. _You_ paid in a lump sum, you see. And you got what you got. Whatever it was that got _you_, parson, got the best of the bargain.” His voice softened.

”You are talking in parables,” said I, severely.

”But I'm not paying in parables, parson. I'm paying in _me_,” said he, grimly. And he laughed again, a laugh of sheer stark misery that raised a chill echo in my heart. His hand crept back to my sleeve.

”I--can't always can the squeal,” he whispered.

”If only I could help you!” I grieved.

”You do,” said he, quickly. ”You do, by being you. I hang on to you, parson. And say, look here! Don't you think I'm such a hog I can't find time to be glad other folks are happy even if I'm not. If there's one thing that could make me feel any sort of way good, it's to know those two who were made for each other have found it out. It sort of makes it look as if some things do come right, even if others are rotten wrong. I'm glad till it hurts me. I'd like you to believe that.”

”I do believe it. And, my son! if you can find time to be glad of others' happiness, without envy, why, you're bound to come right, because you're sound at the core.”

”You reckon I'm worth my price, then, parson?”

”I reckon you're worth your price, whatever it is. I don't worry about you, John Flint.”

And somehow, I did not. I left him with Kerry's head on his knee. His hand was humanly warm again, and the voice in which he told me goodnight was bravely steady. He sat erect in his doorway, fronting the night like a soldier on guard. If he were buying his soul on the instalment plan I was sure he would be able to meet the payments, whatever they were, as they fell due.

CHAPTER XIV

THE WIs.h.i.+NG CURL

With February the cold that the b.u.t.terfly Man had wished for came with a vengeance. The sky lost its bright blue friendliness and changed into a menacing gray, the gray of stormy water. Overnight the flowers vanished, leaving our gardens stripped and bare, and our birds that had been so gay were now but sorry s.h.i.+vering b.a.l.l.s of ruffled feathers, with no song left in them. When rain came the water froze in the wagon-ruts, and ice-covered puddles made street-corners dangerous.

This intense cold, damp, heavy, penetrating, coming upon the heels of the unseasonably warm weather, seemed to bring to a head all the latent sickness smoldering in the mill-parish, for it suddenly burst forth like a conflagration. If the Civic League had not already done so much to better conditions in the poorer district, we must have had a very serious epidemic, as Dr. Westmoreland bluntly told the Town Council.

As it was, things were pretty bad for awhile, and the inevitable white hea.r.s.e moved up and down, stopping now at this door, now at that. In one narrow street, I remember, it moved in the exact shape of a figure eight within the week. I do not like to recall those days. I buried the children with the seal of Holy Mother Church upon their innocence; I repeated over them ”The Lord hath given, the Lord hath taken away”--and knew in my heart that it was man-made want, the greed of money-madness, that had taken them untimely out of their mothers'

laps. And the earth was like iron; it opened unwillingly to receive the babes of the poor.