Glory and the Other Girl

Chapter V

As Glory stood on the desolate little platform, realizing that she had been carried by her own station, she presented a picture of dismay. For an instant the Other Girl stood regarding her with indecision. Then with a slight flush she stepped to Glory's side, and, placing her hand on her arm, said:

“You have been carried by your home, but you have not been taken by mine. Come with me; you will not mind much.” There was a shy pleading in the Other Girl's tone. On the instant of offering hospitality to this dainty new friend, and acute perception of the barrenness of it overswept and dismayed her. In a flash she saw the patch on the seat of Tim's trousers, and instantly an array of mismatched cups, nicked plates and cracked pitchers, passed before her vision. Had the dainty Glory in all her life eaten from a nicked plate?

But instantly she rallied and was her own sweet self.

“It is only a little way. We will try to make you comfortable,” the Other Girl said hurriedly. Her thoughts seemed to have occupied a long time, and she feared her invitation might have seemed lacking in cordiality. Glory scanned her face, then said:

“There isn't any train back to-night – not one. I can't go back. If you are sure it will not be a trouble – But what will Aunt Hope do? She will be so worried!”

The train was wriggling into motion, and Glory caught sight of the Crosspatch Conductor on one end of the platform. She ran toward him wrathfully.

“Goodness! You here?” he cried.

“You carried me by!” Glory cried. “I don't think it was very nice in you!” Then she laughed at the honest dismay in his grim face. The train was under way and she had to raise her voice to call after him. “Never mind! I'm going with my friend. I'll – forgive – you!”

“Oh, I'm glad you said that!” the Other Girl exclaimed earnestly. “I'm glad you said ‘my friend.’ Come, it's this way, just around one corner.”

But Glory hesitated. “Is there any chance anywhere to telephone?” she asked. “I've got to send word to auntie. She would worry all night long, I know she would. I never stayed away from her but once before, and that time I telephoned. There's a wire in our house, you know.”

The Other Girl reflected. “There's one at the store,” she said, “but it's quite a walk. I don't mind it myself. I love to walk. But you – ”

“But I do, too!” Glory laughed, tucking her hand through the shabby jacket sleeve in the friendliest way. “And if I didn't, do you suppose it would matter? I'd walk to a telephone that had Aunt Hope at the other end of it, if I had to go on one foot!”

“Like Tiny Tim,” the Other Girl smiled gently. “But Timmy can walk as fast as anybody. He makes that little crutch of his do almost anything but skip.”

“Skip! Oh, how I used to skip when I was little! I can remember it as plain!”

“I don't believe I ever was young. At any rate, I never skipped,” added the Other Girl thoughtfully.

“Never skipped! Then it's time you did. It's never to late to – skip. Come on, I'll show you how.”

Gayly they went skipping down the stretch of snowy roadway, with their arms around each other. The crisp air reddened the tips of their ears and patted their backs approvingly. For once, at any rate, the Other Girl was young.

At the “store,” Glory telephoned to Aunt Hope. It was quite a while before she could make connections with the private wire, but she waited patiently.

“Hello!” she called, her voice unnecessarily high-pitched. “I'm Glory. Is this you, James? Well, tell auntie I got carried by —carried by! What? Yes, I'm all safe. I'm with my fr – Why, auntie, that's you! I hear your voice! You ought not to have walked out into the hall! Yes, I'm just as ‘all right’ as I can be. I'm going home with Diantha. What? Oh, yes, I knew you'd feel safe about me, then. I sha'n't tell Diantha. It would puff her up! Yes, I wore my rubbers. Yes, I've got my muffler. No, my cold's better. Take care of yourself, auntie; good-by. Oh, no, wait! You still there, auntie? Well, the reason I got carried by was because I was so buried up in a problem. Isn't that funny for Glory? Good-by.”

Tiny Tim met them at the door of a little brown house near the station. His eyes widened with astonishment at sight of Glory. Then his glance traveled to his sister in evident uneasiness.

“My!” he ejaculated slowly, “I've e't up the last cooky!”

Glory laughed out merrily. “Oh, I'm so glad!” she said, “for I don't like cookies unless there's a hole in them.”

“These had holes. I've e't up the last hole, too.”

“Oh, dreadful! But I'll tell you what, Timmie – if you'll let me come in and stay all night, I'll promise not to eat anything but a slice of bread and butter. We could cut a hole in that and play it was a cook – ”

“The bread's gone, too. I've e't up – ”

“Timothy Leavitt, are you going to let us in?” laughed his sister, though there were two red spots blooming in her cheeks. What would Timmie say next! She led the way through the tiny hall into a big, bright room whose centerpiece was a frail, smiling little woman with a lapful of calico bits. She held out both her hands to Glory.

“Don't tell me who she is, Diantha. As if I didn't know! My dear, my dear, I am very glad you have come. I have hoped you would, ever since your path crossed Di's, and – ”

“Glorified it, mamma.”

“Yes, glorified it – that is it. Take off your things, dear, and just feel snug and at home.”

And thus the little home opened its arms to dainty Glory. The welcome extended was as gracious and as perfect a hospitality as could have been found in the grandest home in the land. There was no luxury or even plenty. But Glory saw instantly there was the happiness that goes with love. It was her awakening. A new wonder filled the girl's heart that poverty and happiness could live together like this. While Di was busy she mused.

“I thought poor people fretted and grumbled. I know I should. I shouldn't be sunshiny and nice like this. And they open their doors into their poor, bare, empty rooms and bid me welcome just as beautifully as Aunt Hope would do to our house. It is beautiful. Just beautiful! It's a bit of heaven right down here in this little unpainted house.”

Diantha put on a big apron and rolled up her sleeves. “I'm going out and make some muffins,” she smiled. “Timmie, you stay here.”

“Yes,” said Glory, “Timmie'll stay with me. Can't we play something – we two?”

“Uncrutchit!” demanded Tiny Tim eagerly.

“Un – what? I don't believe I ever played that.”

“No, 'course not. You ain't got any old crutch to un.”

Glory looked helplessly at the gentle mother, who smiled back at her quietly. But in the sweet voice, when it spoke, there was depthless wistfulness.

“Timmie means play he hasn't any crutch – that he doesn't need one, you know,” explained the sweet voice. “‘Un-crutch-it’ is his favorite play. He puts the crutch out of sight – ”

“This way,” cried Timmie, clattering the little crutch under the sofa in hot haste. “That's uncrutching, don't you see? Now I'm uncrutched. You play I'm very big an' tall an' my legs match. Every little while you must look up an' say, ‘Mercy me! how that child grows!’”

The little play went on until supper was ready. Then the little crutch came out again and was put into active service.

It was a strange meal to Glory. She told Aunt Hope afterward all about it.

“It was just as quiet and nice-behaved and beautiful as any supper, only there wasn't anything to eat! Oh, auntie, you know what I mean! You know I mean there were the muffins (they were splendid) and the tea and dried apple sauce. I had more than I could eat. But you don't know how I wanted to fill that pale little lady's plate with some of our chicken and gravy and set by her plate a salad, after she'd worked all day. And pile Tiny Timmie's plate tumble-high with goodies! It made me ashamed to think of all the beautiful suppers of my life that I've taken without even a ‘Thank you, God.’”

The two girls went to bed early and lay talking, as girls have done since girls began. The topics of talk drifted through the different lessons into personal subjects.

“Do you know, I'm hoping!” the Other Girl burst out softly, with a little quiver of her thin body under the quilts. “I began to last night. I'm going to do it right from now on. Maybe it's silly, but I am.”

“Is it a riddle?” asked Glory.

“Oh, don't you understand? I thought you must, because I did! I mean I'm hoping to pass the examinations for the next grade next summer. That's just what I'm doing, Glory Wetherell.”

“Why, that's nothing! I am going to pass, too. If I get through the seminary I am going to Smith College some day.”

“And if I pass for the eighth grade I'm going to keep right on studying for the first grade in high-school. Miss Clem says I can. I talked with her the other night. She says she'll help. Oh, Glory, there is no end to this road you have started me on.”

“I am glad,” said Glory. “Auntie says for folks to keep on when they're doing well enough, and not fret about the other end of the road. One never knows what's on ahead or what may happen.”

“And if I ever get to be anybody, Glory Wetherell, remember it's you who started me.”

After a while the subdued chattering ceased, and the two girls fell asleep, Glory to dream that she and her new friend graduated together from the Centre Town Seminary, in beautiful twin white dresses, and that Aunt Hope was there and clapped her thin, white hands (but they were round and pink-tinted in the dream) when she heard Glory's valedictory.

The Other Girl's dream was of longed-for luxuries for the patient mother and legs that matched for Tiny Tim. Both dreams came to an end in a startling way.