Chapter XV: Opportunities

A CHURCH social had been one of the places against which the senior Morgans had set their faces like flints. Not that there had been much occasion for peremptory decisions. John, when he arrived at the proper age for attending, had grown away from the church into a lower circle, and Dorothy was frightened at the mere thought of going anywhere alone. So occasional sharp criticisms as to the proceedings, reports of which floated to them from time to time, was the extent of their interference. But Louise had weighed the matter carefully, and was bent on an attendance at the church social. Had she taken time to notice it, she might have been amused over the various forms of objection that met her plans.

"I'm afraid they will think the Morgan family have turned out en masse," had her husband said when he listened to the scheme. "I'm in favour of our going, because I think the people will like to meet you, and you will like some of them very well; but wouldn't it be better to get acquainted with them ourselves before getting Dorothy into society? She will be frightened and awkward, and will be very far from enjoying it. John won't go, of course."

"Lewis," his wife said impressively, "I believe John will go; I am very anxious to have him, and I feel impressed with the belief that God will put it into his heart." The curious look on her husband's face emboldened her to ask a question which had been troubling her. "Lewis, you sometimes act almost as though you didn't believe such matters were subjects of prayer at all. Are these things too small for His notice, when he himself refers us to the fading wild flowers for lessons?"

Lewis studied his answer carefully; he admitted that, of course, we had a right to pray about everything; but then—well, the truth was, she certainly had a way of attaching importance to matters which seemed to him trivial. Take, for instance, that tea: he had not understood then, did not now, why she should have been so anxious about it; and as for this matter, what particular good was it going to do to take John to the church social?

"Don't you see," his wife asked earnestly, "that we must get John into a different circle, if we would draw him away from the one he has fallen into?"

Yes, he admitted that; in fact, he admitted everything that she could possibly desire, and yet she knew he went away feeling that it was, after all, of exceeding little consequence whether John went or stayed.

Nevertheless her desire for the accomplishment of this matter remained firm. She studied many ways for winning John's consent to the plan, seeking counsel on her knees, and wondering much that no way opened to her, until she discovered, on the day in question, that there was no need for an opening. John, for reasons best known to himself, had settled the matter, and himself broached the subject by inquiring whether she still believed that the pleasantest thing she could do was to walk.

"Walk where?" questioned the mother, and the subject was before them.

"Why, to the social this evening," explained Louise quickly. "I propose a walk. The evenings are perfect now, and I'm a first-class walker; I feel anxious to show my skill in that line."

"To the church fiddlestick!" said Father Morgan, with more than usual asperity; and Mother Morgan added—

"I wonder if you and Lewis are going to countenance those gatherings?"

"Why," said innocent Louise, "of course we must sustain the social gatherings of our church; I think them very important aids."

"Aids to what, I'd like to know? They are just dancing parties, and nothing else. I'm not a church member, to be sure, but I know what church members ought to be; and to see them standing up for the world in that way, and helping it along, is sickening, to say the least." This from Farmer Morgan.

Then Mrs. Morgan, senior—

"They stay until near morning, and dress, and gossip, and giggle, and dance; if that is sustaining the church, the less it is sustained the better, according to my notion."

Then Louise—

"May not part of the trouble be that those who do not approve of such management stand aloof and let Satan manage it his own way, and lead the young people whither he will?"

"Humph!" said Farmer Morgan (and there is hardly in our language one syllable more expressive than that in the mouths of some people). "The minister goes."

"I know, but he cannot do much alone."

"In my opinion," said Mrs. Morgan firmly, "he enjoys it all too well to want to do anything." Her firm lips and eyes said as plainly as words could have done: "You will do as you like, no doubt, but you won't get my Dorothy to help to sustain any such thing."

"Well, mother, we are going to-night, to see what we can do toward sustaining, or something else. I hardly know what we are going for, I'm sure; but I know this much, we are going."

Perhaps of all the group no one was more surprised than Louise at this statement from John's lips.

She hesitated, and her heart beat high with anxiety and doubt. John meant to go, then; but ought he to speak so to his mother? And ought she to seem to approve of such speaking? Only a second of thought, then she said—

"O John, we wouldn't go if mother disapproved, would we? Lewis says he always minds his mother, and I'm sure I always minded mine."

This sentence, half-laughing, yet inwardly wholly earnest, was sent forth in much anxiety, the speaker remembering the fifth commandment, even though she wished most earnestly, just then, that it were not made so difficult a duty by the mother in question.

But a change had suddenly come over that mother. To have the boy John even at a church social, disreputable as she believed those places to be, was much better than to have him at the corner grocery, or in any of his favourite haunts. The moment there dawned upon her the idea that he really meant to go, her objections softened.

"Oh, I don't want to keep any of you from going, sure. Go if you want to, of course. A church gathering ought to be a nice place, and if it isn't what it ought to be; it isn't your fault, I suppose. I shan't make any objections."

Which was a remarkable concession when we consider the woman who made it. So they went to the social; also they walked—Lewis and Louise stepping briskly along together over the moon-lighted earth, and enjoying every step of the way, as only those can who have little opportunity for long, quiet walks together, even though they are bound by the closest ties.

The large modern farmhouse where the gathering was held was a surprise to Louise; unconsciously she had gauged all farmhouses by her father-in-law's. But here she was introduced to one of those fair country homes with which our land abounds—bright and tasteful, and, in its free and easy, home-like way, beautiful. The large rooms were carefully arranged, and little works of art and souvenirs of celebrated spots and scenes were freely scattered, and the books, displayed lavishly, spoke of cultured tastes and leisure for their indulgence. A large company was gathered, and the scene was social in the extreme. The new-comers were very heartily greeted, it being evident to all but herself that Mrs. Lewis Morgan was looked upon as an acquisition to the society much to be desired. As for that lady, she was so engrossed in making Dorothy feel at home and have a good time, and so anxious that John should not slip away in disgust before the evening was over, that she forgot her position as a stranger, and, with an end in view, made acquaintances eagerly and searchingly, looking everywhere for the helpers that she hoped to find in these young people.

Meantime she studied the actual scene, trying to fit it to the reports which had come to her. The company was very merry. They talked a good deal of nonsense, no doubt, and it was possible that a sort of giggly, good-natured gossip came in for its share; and they were, at least the younger portion, too much dressed for a church social; but though the evening was advancing, she had as yet seen no indications of the amusement which Father and Mother Morgan found so objectionable.

During a moment's leisure Mr. Butler came over to her. He had been among the young people all the evening, the favourite centre of the merriest circles. It was evident that these young people enjoyed their pastor at a church social, whatever opinion they might have of him elsewhere.

"I am so glad you came out to our gathering," he said to her cordially. "It was very kind in you to overlook our lack of courtesy in the matter of calls and come at once. Our ladies will call on you promptly enough now. Some of them had the impression that you might not care to make new acquaintances."

"I wonder why?" said Louise in surprise. "My old friends are too far-away to be made available. Mr. Butler, what a great company of young people! Do these all belong to your congregation Where were they on Wednesday night?"

"Well," said Mr. Butler, "the plain and painful truth is, that wherever they are on Wednesday evenings, at one place they are not, and that is the prayer-meeting. Some of them are church members, but it never seems to be convenient for country people to come to town on Wednesdays, nor to be out so late as is necessary in order to attendance at prayer-meeting."

"Yet they come to the church socials?"

"Oh yes, indeed. That is another matter; they have no objection to being social."

"Then, what a pity it is that we couldn't have our prayer-meeting social, isn't it?"

Mr. Butler laughed, then grew grave.

"Well, but, Mrs. Morgan, you do not suppose it is possible to make prayer-meetings into places where those who have no love for Christ will like to come?"

"Perhaps not; though more might be done for even that class, I suspect, than is. But some of these young people belong to Christ, do they not?"

He shook his head.

"Very few. I never knew a church with such a large class of indifferent young people in it. Oh, some of them are members, to be sure; but the large majority of those here to-night, the young ones, have no sympathy with the church, except in its socials."

"Then what a doubly important opportunity this church social is," said Louise, with kindling eyes. "This is really almost your only chance with the young people, then, save in calls. How do you manage the work? Or is that too close a question to answer?"

The bright eyes of the young minister dropped before her. He felt, in truth, that the question was too close, though not in the sense that she meant it. He wished, in his truthful heart, that he could just leave her to think that his ways of working were too intermingled to be explained; but whatever faults he may have had, deception was not one of them.

He hesitated and flushed, then met her gaze squarely, as he said—

"The simple truth is, Mrs. Morgan, I am doing just nothing with these young people, and I don't know what to do."

"I know," she said quickly; "the work is immense, and little patient efforts sometimes seem like 'just nothing.' But, after all, how can you tell? The earnest words dropped here and there, even in such soil as this, may spring up and bear fruit; so long as you meet your people in this way, once a week, and can gather them about you as you do, I shouldn't allow myself to get discouraged."

Evidently she did not understand him. He was leaving her to suppose that he was moving quietly around among them dropping seed, when, in reality, he had been chatting with them about the skating and the sleighing, and the coming festival, and the recent party, and had dropped no earnest, honest seed of any sort. His honest heart shrank from bearing unmerited approval.

"I am literal in my statement," he said earnestly, "though you are kind enough to translate it figuratively. I do not feel that I am saying anything to help these young people, save as I am helping them to have a pleasant evening. I don't know how that is going to tell for the future, and I don't know what I can do to tell toward that. I cannot get one into a corner and preach a sermon to him at such a time as this; now, can I?"

"I shouldn't think it would be a good place in which to read sermons," said Louise, with smiling eyes and grave mouth. "But, then, we who never preach at all will not allow you to profess that the sermon is the only way of seed-sowing."

"I did not mean literal preaching, of course," he said, a trifle annoyed; "but what I mean is, there is no opportunity here for personal effort of any sort. I am always afraid to attempt anything of the kind, lest I may prejudice people against the whole subject. Don't you think there is danger of that?"

"Well, I don't know," Louise said thoughtfully. "If I were to talk with one of my friends who is not acquainted with you, and tell her how kind you were, and how interested in all young people, and how pleasant and helpful you were, it doesn't seem to me that I should prejudice that friend against you. Why should I feel afraid of prejudicing them against my Saviour?"

He looked at her doubtfully.

"Don't you think that young people look upon this question with different eyes from that which they give to any other? Aren't they more afraid of hearing it talked about?"

"Aren't they more unaccustomed to hearing it talked about?" was Louise's earnest answer. "Have we, as Christians, tried the experiment fully of talking freely, brightly, socially about this matter, about our joys and hopes and prospects? What do you suppose the effect would be? Suppose, for instance, Mr. Butler, you and I were in the midst of that circle across from us where there is just now a lull in the conversation, and you should say to me: 'Mrs. Morgan, what have you found to-day that affects our plans?' and I should answer: 'Why, I found that our Father loves us even better than I had supposed. I found to-day that he says he blots out our transgressions for his own sake!' I did find that to-day, Mr. Butler, and it is as news to me. He really loves us so much that, for his own sake, he forgives us. What if I should say that to you in the presence of these others?"

"They would consider us a couple of fanatics," said Mr. Butler quickly.

"Well," said Louise, with bright eyes and smiling mouth, "that, certainly, wouldn't hurt us. But why should we be called fanatics? I heard you telling what Professor Proctor says he has recently decided in regard to a scientific matter, and the young men about you listened and questioned, and didn't act as though you were a fanatic at all."