The Tryst (Annotated) (Grace Livingston Hill Book) (30 page)

Somehow the congregation got interested in that young man. One or two solid old business men got out their handkerchiefs and wiped their glasses, and stirred uneasily in their pews. Horliss-Cole was most uncomfortable. There had been a case of that sort at The Plant and he had suppressed a small attempt to secure sympathy for the young man. 

The minister sketched the possibility of these strangers being tried innocently for murder, and for other crimes of which they were innocent, and he had the colossal nerve to suggest to that noble congregation that it was their privilege --THEIR DUTY-- to be friends and brothers to those common foreigners who came across the sea to earn their living! It was not enough that they employed them and paid them a fair wage, not even enough that they built them hospitals where they might be patched up when they lost an arm or a leg doing their work, and sent their children to school and brought them up to take their fathers’ places working. Not even enough to amuse them now and then. They should make it their business to see that these men and their children were put in the way of development. That talents they had might be discovered and trained, that their weaknesses, or hindrances might be allowed for, that their desires might be fulfilled. They were children of the same Father. Except your righteousness shall EXCEED--! And most of all they should so represent their Father in Heaven, that these should see and accept Him as their Father. 

It was a very trying sermon for some of those stingy rich men and a most enlightening one for some of the rich men who were not stingy. But whichever they were they sat at attention, for no one could be under the sound of that thrilling young voice and not face the facts that were flung at them, facts about disease and crime, housing and jails and hospitals, cases of drunkenness. Facts about churches and what they were not doing. Facts about social standards and how they affected the laboring classes. There was not a sentence that did not hold something startling as the speaker neared the close of his remarks and somehow every church member present felt suddenly arraigned before a judgment that was not of earth. 

John Treeves had not more than finished pronouncing the solemn benediction before the solid old member who had wiped his glasses so many times was on his feet and half-way up the aisle:

“Young man,” said he, grasping the minister's sleeve, “young man, I want you to tell me who that young fellow is that has been in jail three years. I'm going to get out and see what I can do for him personally. PERSONALLY, you understand. He needs his girl to come over right away. Has she stuck to him, do you know? I want to find out all the facts in the case, can you give them to me?” 

And while John Treeves was pouring forth the story and giving dates and names for the other man to write in his notebook, Maxim Petrol and Horliss-Cole were standing at the back of the church and shaking their heads solemnly together: 

“Of course this can't go on,” said Horliss-Cole. I'm greatly disappointed in him. I thought from the way he took any suggestions that he was going to be quite amenable to reason--” 

“Well,” said Maxim Petrol, “don't be too hard on him all at once. He's original, of course, and that will attract people. I thought that suggestion of yours about a course of study was the best yet. He really has pretty good stuff in him, and being a Treeves--! There's nothing like a good solid institution to tone up a flighty mind. Get him among other students--! Said anything to him about it yet?” 

“Yes, I broached the matter, and he said he'd think about it, but he's quite peculiar. One never knows how he is going to take a thing. He almost has the attitude when you admonish him of --well-- I could almost say he looks  --amused!” 

Maxim Petrol stared thoughtfully through large, round, shell-rimmed glasses: 

“My brother Merriman says he likes to hear him preach because he has a keen sense of humor,” he said plaintively. “It may be even that he is amused! Yet it scarcely seems the thing in a minister of the Gospel, do you think? Humor and dignity hardly seem to go together.” 

“It seems to be not quite a fitting combination,” said Horliss-Cole annoyedly. It did not amuse him to think he had caused amusement. He had of late years taken himself quite too seriously. “But then everyone knows Merriman is always looking for a joke,” he added, taking a grain of comfort. 

“Well, it certainly is popular, whatever you call it,” continued Maxim Petrol. Do you know what the collection was this morning? More than double any last month or the month before. The people are taking to him. Look at Snuff- box Anderson down there plastering it all over him! And Judge Beech! And did you see the editorial in The Times last Monday? It made quite the hit of the Sunday news, that sermon. You didn't like it, but you'll find that kind of stuff takes. It's rot, of course, but people will have it; it's like jazz music and the Police Gazette. - Just get a man that talks something different from the common run and you catch a crowd and get in the limelight. Not that I like that sort of thing, of course, but I guess we've got to do something if we don't want to dry up and blow away. The old church has been getting behind the times for the last ten years and it's up to the committee to bring about a change. I guess if it's going to please the people and bring in old Treeves's dollars, we'll have to patch him up somehow to suit the more conservative. Try the study course on him and see if it works. I tell you he's got good stuff in him if it were only polished up and modernized a little. It isn't so much what you preach, you know, as the way you get it across, and that's what he does, gets it across ! Now if you can only doctor up his antiquated ideas a little we'll make it a go.” 

But Horliss-Cole, mindful of the way he had failed Saturday night, took himself to his home in a less self-assured way than was natural. He was by no means certain that he was going to “get it across” with young Treeves. 

John Treeves took dinner that Sunday with the old gentleman of the fat check book and found much to tell that that worthy soul did not know, both about humanity and also about the Christian religion. But Horliss-Cole sat annoyedly in his stately library and wondered how he was to get opportunity to give a few more broad hints to the young clergyman without sacrificing the whole of his valuable Monday morning. 

However, John Treeves walked in upon him about five o'clock Sunday afternoon and sat down affably, opening the interview himself. 

“Well, now, Mr. Horliss-Cole, I'm ready to answer your question and I'd like you to do a little favor for me.” 

“Oh, certainly!” said Horliss-Cole, so relieved that he would have granted him two favors for the moment. “Just take that easy chair by the fire, won't you? And have a cigar. These are my own special brand. Brought them from --”

But John Treeves waved him aside: 

“Thank you, no; I never smoke!” 

Horliss-Cole still held out the box of large, fat monogrammed cigars, however, with an urgent, indulgent little shake: 

“Oh, that's all right, Treeves, we're in the seclusion of my library now, you know, and I don't intend to publish it. Besides, the feeling about the clergy doing such things is largely passing away. In fact, I think it's a good thing. It promotes fellowship among men. You can get nearer to a man over a good cigar than any other way, you know. It's something like the Indian Pipe of Peace--” he finished, vaguely feeling that he was capping a very good climax with, a telling illustration. 

“Yes?” said John Treeves, dropping into the big chair with a temporary air, as if he had not time to sit back and rest. “Well, I've never found it hard to get near to a man without smoking and I guess I won't try it now, thank you. Somehow it doesn't appeal to me, and I think I'm clearer headed without it. I was going to ask you if you would kindly give me an introduction to your foreman over at The Plant-- or whoever has charge of hiring men.” 

Horliss-Cole reluctantly, offendedly withdrew the cigar box, his face slowly congealing at the request: Was this young upstart going to try and run in some protege? He needn't think he could ran The Plant because he was preaching in their church: 

“I'm afraid,” he said coldly, “that there isn't much chance of getting any new hands in just now; you see, we are turning off men, rather than hiring. This is a slack time and --” 

“That's too bad,” said John Treeves calmly, “but that is just where you come in, I suspect .You see, I want you to speak the word that will make an opening somewhere. I don't mean that I want a job made out of whole cloth, of course, or that I want any other man put out to serve my purposes, but in such a flourishing plant as I saw the other day you surely must have room for one more good experienced man.” 

“Who is your man?” asked Horliss-Cole coldly. It did beat everything how this bubble of a young man got up things and insisted upon them when anybody else in the world in his position would be careful how he stepped these first few weeks before the call was assured. The young man did not seem exactly thick skinned either. Horliss-Cole did not understand it. He did not like to admit that he liked the fellow all the better for his independence, even though it angered and baffled him. 

“I was speaking of myself,” said John Treeves quietly. 

“Oh-ho!” laughed Horliss-Cole with a relieved sound in his voice, flicking away the ash from his cigar daintily.” I see. You were joking. Ha! Ha! Quite a compliment to the works I assure you. I appreciate it. I'll have to tell Petrol that. He appreciates a good joke; that is, his brother Merriman does. He's always hunting one. They call him Merry for short on that account, I believe. By the way, Marjorie left a box of chocolates on the table here, perhaps you'll have some of those -- shoving a luxurious box toward him. “Ha, ha! Quite a joke!” 

“Not at all!” said John Treeves seriously. “I mean it. I would like to get into the shop for a while and get near to those men. It's just what I've been looking for, a chance for something like that.” 

Horliss-Cole smiled and narrowed his eyes quizzically: 

“Oh, I see! Social service! Of course that might be very interesting to you for a few days, but a thing like that is a bit upsetting to regular work, you know, and the men might resent it.” 

“You misunderstand me,” said Treeves. “I want a regular job with regular wages like the rest, and I want to stick for a year, perhaps, maybe more.” 

Horliss-Cole smiled once more at his enthusiasm: 

“I thought you said it was an 'experienced' man you were offering?” 

“I did,” said Treeves promptly. “I worked in machine shops for two summers while I was in college. I could run any of those machines and do piece-work in that second building we went through, and I'll warrant that in a week I could work as fast and as well as any man on the floor, I like that sort of thing.” 

“Well, but,” said Horliss-Cole growing more serious since this young man was determined to talk in this impossible way, "do you think that such a position would be compatible with your other work, your-- ah --calling?” 

“I certainly do!” said Treeves. “You, sir, were suggesting a course of study to me yesterday. Well, this is my reply. I want to do this for at least a year as a study in Humanity. I do not know of any better way to get near to men than to live with them, and work with them and have common interests.” 

“Those men are scarcely the class of humanity with whom you will be likely to have to do in your life work.” Horliss-Cole said it coldly, as if somehow the suggestion had been a personal insult. 

“Humanity is the same the world over, no matter in what class it is found,” said John Treeves. 

“Well, Mr. Treeves, I scarcely think our church would agree to your proposition.” Horliss-Cole lighted his cigar once more and gave a puff or two of finality to his speech as he eyed the young man narrowly. He felt much as if he had stepped into a zoo with an escaped lion and been told to put him in a cage again. 

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Horliss-Cole,” said John Treeves calmly. “But I believe that after next Sunday my connection with that church will be concluded. You said four Sundays in your letter, I believe. I was not expecting to go to work until a week from to-morrow. I can scarcely see what this church would have to do with my affairs after that.” 

A sort of a cold perspiration came out on Horliss-Cole's forehead. What an everlasting pest this young man was, with all his culture and breeding and money. The very idea! What a crazy fool! What on earth should he say next? The committee were hardly ready to show their hands as yet. 

“I did not say, Mr. Treeves, that the church would not desire your services after the four weeks were concluded, however,” he said impressively, “I think on the whole the committee has been most favorably impressed with you. I should not like you to do anything that would in any way prejudice them against you. For my own part I am very fond of you and would like to see you get a call. It might even come to that, you know, if you play your cards well.” 

“But I'm not playing cards!” said John Treeves, his whole face breaking into a radiant smile of mischief. "In fact, it would take more than a call from the church to make me even consider such a thing.” 

“What do you mean?” Horliss-Cole stiffened visibly. 

“I mean that I would have to be very sure that God had called me to make me willing to accept a call to a church like that,” said Treeves reverently. 

“A church like that!” repeated Horliss-Cole haughtily. “Young man, I don't suppose you have been in New York long enough to realize that our church is among the oldest and best established churches in the city; I might say, in the country. It is known from sea to sea. It has been the church home of more than one President of the United States, many senators, and noted men, great financiers, nationally-wide educators and literateurs. Its pulpit has been filled by the greatest orators of their times. Historically you could fill no greater pulpit, young man!” 

“But I am not anxious to fill a pulpit historically, Mr. Horliss-Cole. I am not an orator, nor do I feel called to speak to great men. My desire is to get near to the hearts of men and bring them to know Jesus Christ.”