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Page 69
And it never once entered her mind that, if she had told her grandmother
who the friend in Montana was, and where he lived in Philadelphia, it
would have made all the difference in the world.
From the first of the voyage Grandmother Bailey grew steadily worse, and
when they landed on the other side they went from one place to another
seeking health. Carlsbad waters did not agree with her, and they went to
the south of France to try the climate. At each move the little old lady
grew weaker and more querulous. She finally made no further resistance,
and gave up to the r�le of invalid. Then Elizabeth must be in constant
attendance. Madam Bailey demanded reading, and no voice was so soothing as
Elizabeth's.
Gradually Elizabeth substituted books of her own choice as her grandmother
seemed not to mind, and now and then she would read a page of some book
that told of the best Friend. At first because it was written by the dear
pastor at home it commanded her attention, and finally because some
dormant chord in her heart had been touched, she allowed Elizabeth to
speak of these things. But it was not until they had been away from home
for three months, and she had been growing daily weaker and weaker, that
she allowed Elizabeth to read in the Bible.
The girl chose the fourteenth chapter of John, and over and over again,
whenever the restless nerves tormented their victim, she would read those
words, "Let not your heart be troubled" until the selfish soul, who had
lived all her life to please the world and do her own pleasure, came at
last to hear the words, and feel that perhaps she did believe in God, and
might accept that invitation, "Believe also in me."
One day Elizabeth had been reading a psalm, and thought her grandmother
was asleep. She was sitting back with weary heart, thinking what would
happen if her grandmother should not get well. The old lady opened her
eyes.
"Elizabeth," she said abruptly, just as when she was well, "you've been a
good girl. I'm glad you came. I couldn't have died right without you. I
never thought much about these things before, but it really is worth
while. In my Father's house. He is my Father, Elizabeth."
She went to sleep then, and Elizabeth tiptoed out and left her with the
nurse. By and by Marie came crying in, and told her that the Madam was
dead.
Elizabeth was used to having people die. She was not shocked; only it
seemed lonely again to find herself facing the world, in a foreign land.
And when she came to face the arrangements that had to be made, which,
after all, money and servants made easy, she found herself dreading her
own land. What must she do after her grandmother was laid to rest? She
could not live in the great house in Rittenhouse Square, and neither could
she very well go and live in Flora Street. O, well, her Father would hide
her. She need not plan; He would plan for her. The mansions on the earth
were His too, as well as those in heaven.
And so resting she passed through the weary voyage and the day when the
body was laid to rest in the Bailey lot in the cemetery, and she went back
to the empty house alone. It was not until after the funeral that she went
to see Grandmother Brady. She had not thought it wise or fitting to invite
the hostile grandmother to the other one's funeral. She had thought
Grandmother Bailey would not like it.
She rode to Flora Street in the carriage. She felt too weary to walk or go
in the trolley. She was taking account of stock in the way of friends,
thinking over whom she cared to see. One of the first bits of news she had
heard on arriving in this country had been that Miss Loring's wedding was
to come off in a few days. It seemed to strike her like a thunderbolt, and
she was trying to arraign herself for this as she rode along. It was
therefore not helpful to her state of mind to have her grandmother remark
grimly:
"That feller o' yours 'n his oughtymobble has been goin' up an' down this
street, day in, day out, this whole blessed summer. Ain't been a day he
didn't pass, sometimes once, sometimes twicet. I felt sorry fer him
sometimes. Ef he hadn't been so high an' mighty stuck up that he couldn't
recognize me, I'd 'a' spoke to him. It was plain ez the nose on your face
he was lookin' fer you. Don't he know where you live?"
"I don't believe he does," said Elizabeth languidly. "Say, grandmother,
would you care to come up to Rittenhouse Square and live?"
"Me? In Rittenhouse Square? Fer the land sakes, child, no. That's flat.
I've lived me days out in me own sp'ere, and I don't intend to change now
at me time o' life. Ef you want to do somethin' nice fer me, child, now
you've got all that money, I'd like real well to live in a house that hed
white marble steps. It's been me one aim all me life. There's some round
on the next street that don't come high. There'd be plenty room fer us
all, an' a nice place fer Lizzie to get married when the time comes. The
parlor's real big, and you would send her some roses, couldn't you?"
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