CHAPTER VII

MARY DUNLAP, left alone in the big beautiful room with the echo of the scornful young words, and the echo of that slammed door hurting into her soul, suddenly rested her elbow on the arm of the chair in which she sat, and dropped her tired head upon her hand. With closed eyes she prayed, her soul crying out from the depth of her failure. She had done her best for this little sister and she had utterly failed. Now she called upon her Father for sustaining strength, for light, for guidance, for calmness in the midst of despair; for the headstrong blinded girl, and for the worn despairing mother.

Then out of her despair came peace, and suddenly a knowledge that the Father cared more than she did, even more than the stricken mother.

She became aware of the entrance of that mother, quietly, like a little sad wraith.

Lifting her head she tried to smile but failed.

"It was no use!" she said sadly, "She would not believe a word that I said."

"Oh, my dear strong friend!" breathed the little mother, "What should I do without you? I have been praying while you were down here. I cannot think my little girl is to be allowed to go to destruction, or lose her mind, or anything. She is a child of the covenant. Her father and I dedicated her to the Lord when she was born. He cannot desert us! You don't think He would let her go like this, do you? She is—a church-member—of course—and has always seemed—a Christian. Haven't I a right to claim His promises for my child?"

"You certainly have," said the strong hearty voice. "Come let us kneel down now and claim that promise, 'Where two of you shall agree as touching anything that they shall ask it shall be done for them of my Father.'"

So the two women knelt hand in hand beside the couch and poured out their hearts in prayer for the foolish girl, till it seemed that their yearning words must be already spread before the mercy seat, and perhaps the swift answer on its way; and new strength and courage came into the mother's heart.

Upstairs there were hurrying footsteps for a few minutes, and then silence, but if the two petitioners heard them it was only to be thankful that they were not the regular measured frantic tread that had been going back and forth all day. Perhaps she was resting at last.

They rose with a peace upon their faces.

"Now," said Mary Dunlap, "it is time you went to bed and to sleep. We have put the whole matter in the Father's hands and we cannot do anything else till He shows us. Suppose you run upstairs and see if she is all right, and then, if she is resting, I will go back to the hotel and let you get to bed, for I'm sure I won't be needed any more to-night."

"You have been so wonderful!" murmured Mrs. Sheldon. "What should I have done without you? Why not stay here to-night? Our guest room is always ready, and then we can talk things over in the morning."

"No," said Mary Dunlap decidedly. "It is better for me to be out of the house. The child resents my presence just now, and will come to herself twice as quickly if she is alone with her mother. Get a good night's rest, and perhaps she will see things differently in the morning. Sleep does a great deal toward bringing sane vision."

"Oh, I do hope she is asleep! She never even lay down last night, just walked the floor and talked in that wild frantic way and then cried! I never saw anybody cry like that, so despairingly, so resentfully! It frightened me! But really, I cannot let you go back to the hotel at this time of night. It must be very late indeed. I'm sure I heard the midnight train go down quite a few minutes ago. It isn't safe for a woman to be out alone so late."

"Nonsense!" laughed Mary Dunlap. "My dear, nobody would touch me. I've been out at all hours in all kinds of places, and shall often be if I live. It doesn't bother me a bit. Come, run up and see if the child is all right and then I'll go. You mustn't lose any more sleep. Can't I just stand here at the foot of the stairs and you wave to me if all is well? Is the night latch on the door? And does that light turn out from above? Then I'll shut the door after me, and you needn't come down again to-night. Good night, dear, brave, little mother. I'll call you up in the morning and see how the Father is answering our prayer."

Mrs. Sheldon pressed the other woman's hand, and then tiptoed upstairs softly. Her footfalls were muffled in the heavy texture of costly rugs, and Mary Dunlap waited below, looking up for her signal, yawning wearily and suddenly realizing that she felt very old and tired.

But the footsteps did not return at once as she had expected. It seemed a long time before she suddenly heard Mrs. Sheldon almost running across the floor above, rushing through the hall and down the stairs a fluttering paper in her hand. Her face was chalk white in the subdued light of the hall chandelier and her eyes burned dark with fright.

"She is gone!" she cried, her voice catching in a sob. "She is not there at all. She has gone to New York!"

She thrust a paper into Mrs. Dunlap's hand and dropped down upon the lowest step of the stair in a little crushed heap, her face in her hands.

Mrs. Dunlap was reading the letter that had been given her:

Dear Mother: (it read)

There is only one thing left for me to do, and that is to go to number — Fifth Avenue New York and Prove that there is no Mr. Ralph Oliver. After I have done that, I shall go and find Rufus and we will be married at once! It is my duty to save Rufus from this terrible plot against his character. After that, we will take care of you. Don't worry. I will let you hear from me.

Lovingly,

DAISY.

Mary Dunlap read the letter over twice, while Mrs. Sheldon cried softly. Then the elder woman spoke:

"I know what you are thinking. You think the Lord has not heard your prayer. But you must not think that. I heard a great preacher from England once say that we must learn to 'trust Him where we could not trace Him,' and I think that if God has been preparing this thing while we were praying and claiming His promise, that in some way it is to answer our prayer. Come, let us trust Him, and tell him so."

Right there by the stairs Mary Dunlap prayed, talking to the Lord as if He stood where she could see Him, asking directions for what they should do next.

When the brief prayer was over the mother lifted her head and stood up.

"Daisy is not used to traveling alone! Especially out in the night this way, and to a great city!" She spoke in a tone of deep anguish.

"She is not alone!" said Mary Dunlap solemnly, "God is with her!"

Then after an instant she added:

"And there is no reason why we should not follow, is there? Wouldn't that be what the Lord would want? When is the next train?"

"Not until five o'clock in the morning," sighed the mother.

"Even so," said the steady traveler, "we shall not be so far behind her, and perhaps this was the only way to convince her, to let her see that it is all true. Sister, we've got to trust our Father! There just isn't anything else to do!"

Daisy's mother looked up with a weak little trembling smile and with lips that quivered as she spoke the words, said:

"All right!"

"You good little sport!" said Mary Dunlap, and stooped down and kissed her.

"Now," she said, "sit down a minute while we plan. I'll go back to the hotel and pack my grip. It takes just five minutes, I've done it in a hurry so many times. Then I'll get all the information needed about the train, and order a taxi to come for us, and I'll come back here. That ought not to take me more than three quarters of an hour. Let me see. It's now quarter of one. I'll be back here at half past. In the mean time, are you strong enough to get together what few things you'll need on the way while I'm gone? And can't you call your maid and give her directions about leaving the house for a few days? You can telegraph her afterward of course if you forget anything. Is she trustworthy?"

"She's been with us fifteen years," said Mrs. Sheldon. "She simply takes care of us."

"That's good then. Let's go. Work fast, and be done when I get back so we can get a few winks of sleep. Oh, yes, you've got to sleep or you would be sick and that wouldn't do. But you don't need to bother about breakfast. We'll get that on the train. Now, I'm off!"

Mary Dunlap was as good as her word, did all she had promised to do with a few minor details thrown in. She was efficiency itself when it came to any kind of a crisis. She was back three minutes ahead of her schedule and standing over the poor bewildered mother, whose eyes kept blurring with tears as she tried to go about and gather up the things she would need.

"Now," said Mary Dunlap looking down at the open suitcase, only half packed, "what have you got in here? Night dress and toilet things? A couple of other dresses, one for daytime and one for evening. Yes, you can't tell what we may run into on this jaunt! Always look out for any emergency, and two extra dresses will generally do it. Now, a warm kimono, slippers and another pair of shoes, a change of underwear that's about all. You'll want to take your pen perhaps and a few extra handkerchiefs. I've done this so much it is second nature. Sometimes I almost have to live on the cars."

"It seems as if I just couldn't think."

"Well, don't try, I'll do it for you. How about Daisy, did she take anything with her? She certainly didn't have much time. It must have been after eleven o'clock when she went upstairs and she wrote that note before she left."

"Yes, her suit case is gone. I don't really know how much is missing. Perhaps she hadn't fully unpacked it since she came home."

"Did she have money?"

"I don't know how much. She has her own bank account, and probably has her check book. They know her at the station of course and would cash her check. That makes me think, I wonder how much money I have in the house? Perhaps Daisy has taken it. She is always free to go to my drawer when she runs out of money."

"Don't worry about money. I always carry a few traveler's checks and I had the hotel order tickets and chairs for us. They will come with the taxi in the morning. Now, where do you keep your hat and coat and gloves? Is your hand bag ready? I want you to lie down this minute and get some sleep. No, don't lie and think about Daisy. Just rest back on the Father's promise and relax. Everything is going to be all right!"

So Mrs. Sheldon, ready for her journey all but her dress, wrapped her kimono about her and was tucked up by Mary Dunlap. Surprisingly she went to sleep, worn out with her two nights of vigil.

Mary Dunlap slept too, little cat naps with a keen squint at her wristwatch with the aid of her ever ready flashlight stowed under her pillow.

It was she who slipped down to the strange kitchen at daybreak and made some good strong coffee. It was she who carried it up and made Mrs. Sheldon drink it. It was she who inspected the suit case at the last minute, snapped it shut and carried it down to the door, while Mrs. Sheldon was giving a few last directions to the sleepy maid who had loyally stumbled down to say goodbye just as the taxi drew up at the door.

They had been seated in the train for perhaps an hour when Mrs. Sheldon said with a troubled look:

"I almost wish I had asked Nelson to come with us. He is so dependable where Daisy is concerned, and it doesn't seem quite fair to him to run away without a word. He is so—so—loyal and patient."

"H'm!" mused Mary Dunlap. "Was there—any way you could have asked him? Would Daisy have resented your telling him?"

"I suppose she would. No, I don't suppose there was," said the perplexed mother reversing the order of the questions, "but somehow it seems all wrong not to have him along when we are in trouble."

"Well," said Mary Dunlap thoughtfully, "if the Lord needs him, He'll know how to send him. Don't you fret."

Fortunately both women were dead with sleep, and were able to get some real refreshing rest in their chairs while the miles raced along beneath the wheels, and Daisy drew nearer to New York.

What would Daisy do when she got to New York? Her mother could not keep the question out of her mind, and yet she could not answer it. Oh, what awful experience might she not have if she went to that office and met her old lover! A creature as hardened as he would perhaps think nothing of spiriting her away somewhere, so that her mother might never see her again. If she came early alone to his office and found him by himself, he might tell her any lie, and in her present state of mind, she would believe it.

On the other hand, what if that Mrs. Oliver or her daughters should happen to be there when Daisy arrived, and she should say something to her lover which showed what her relation had been to him, would she and Daisy ever be able to live after such humiliation?

The poor mother could not fathom the answer to her painful thoughts and could only pray over and over again in her heart,—

"Oh Father, keep her, keep my child from falling."

And then like soothing balm there came to her familiar words,—

"Able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the throne—without spot or wrinkle or any such thing."

Oh, how blessedly the old verses learned in childhood came trooping to her groping thoughts, as if the Father were speaking them to her heart, while the train carried her on her way.

The long day was accomplished at last, a day during which both the women slept a good deal and talked a little, finding out common points of contact, common interests between one another, speaking of Daisy now and then; of Nelson Whitney occasionally; of Daisy's wonderful father; and Mrs. Sheldon's girlhood. As the night drew on and the lights began to appear, the two women began to feel as if they had known each other for years, and were bound by ties closer even than sisters might have been. Then there was the long night, to be waked through, thinking of the possibilities of the morrow.

"Now," said Mary Dunlap looking at her wristwatch the next morning after they had had breakfast, and come back to their section, in the sleeper, "it's quarter of nine. We shall be in, in three quarters of an hour, and take a taxi straight to Fifth Avenue if there isn't time to go to a hotel. Nothing opens in New York much before ten o'clock. Daisy got in last night, but all offices were closed. She couldn't have done anything till this morning, and she can't get there much ahead of us. At least if she does, she won't see him, for I'm sure he never comes down to the office before ten, and sometimes later. Take heart, sister, and trust the Father. He is managing this business, and I fancy He could have taken care of Daisy even if we hadn't come along. You know He manages a lot of things without us!"

Mrs. Sheldon blinked back the tears and smiled.

"I know," she said. "I'll try to rest on Him."

And then they began to draw near to the great city, and the two women put on hats and coats, and sat up ready for action. Who knew what the day had in store for them?