"The newspapers were facetious about my "Baby Houses" until they scented the Prime Minister at the back of them, and now they call them the "Storm Shelters," and christen my nightly processions "The White-cross Army." Even the Archdeacon has begun to tell the world how he "took an interest" in me from the first and gave me my t.i.tle. I met him again the other day at a rich woman"s house, where we had only one little spar, and yesterday he wrote urging me to "organize my great effort," and have a public dinner in honour of its inauguration. I did not think G.o.d"s work could be well done by people dining in herds and drinking bottles of champagne, but I showed no malice. In fact, I agreed to hold a meeting in the lady"s drawing-room, to which clergymen, laymen, and members of all denominations are being invited, for this is a cause that rises above all differences of dogma, and I intend to try what can be done toward a union of Christendom on a social basis. Mrs. Callender is dour on that subject too, reminding me that where the carca.s.s is there will the eagles be gathered together. The Archdeacon thinks we must have the meeting before the twelfth of August, or not until after the middle of September, and Mrs. Callender understands this to mean that "the Holy Ghost always goes to sleep in the grouse season."
"Meantime my Girls" Club goes like a forest fire. We are in our renovated clergy-house at last, and have everything comfortable. Two hundred members already, chiefly dressmakers and tailors, and girls out of the jam and match factories. The bright, merry young things, rejoicing in their brief blossoming time between girlhood and womanhood.
I love to be among them and to look at their glistening eyes! Mrs.
Callender blows withering blasts on this head also, saying it is no place for a "laddie," whereupon I lie low and think much but say nothing.
"Our great night is Sunday night after service. Yes, indeed, Sunday!
That"s just when the devil"s houses are all open round about us, and why should G.o.d"s house be shut up? It is all very well for the people who have only one Sabbath in the week to keep it wholly holy--I have seven, being a follower of Jesus, not of Moses. But the rector of the parish has begun to complain of my "intrusion," and to tell the Bishop I ought to be "mended or ended." It seems that my "doings" are "indecent and unnecessary," and my sermons are "a violation of all the sanct.i.ties, all the modesties of existence." Poor dumb dog, teaching the Gospel of Don"t! The world has never been reformed by "resignation" to the evils of life, or converted by "silence" either.
"How I wish you were here, in the midst of it all! And--who knows?--perhaps you will be some day yet. Do not trouble to answer this--I will write again soon, and may then have something practical to say to you. _Au revoir!_"
XI.
On the day of the drawing-room meeting a large company gathered in the hall at Belgrave Square. Lady Robert Ure, back from the honeymoon, received the guests for her mother, whose weak heart and a headache kept her upstairs. Her husband stood aside, chewing the end of his mustache and looking through his eyegla.s.s with a gleam of amused interest in his glittering eye. There were many ladies, all fashionably dressed, and one of them wore a seagull"s wing in her hat, with part of the root left visible and painted red to show that it had been torn out of the living bird. The men were nearly all clergymen, and the cut of their cloth and the fashions of their ties indicated the various complexions of their creeds. They glanced at each other with looks of embarra.s.sment, and Mrs.
Callender, who came in like a breeze off a Scottish moor, said audibly that she had never seen "sae many craws on one tree before." The Archdeacon was there with his head up, talking loudly to Lady Robert.
She stood motionless in her place, never turning her head toward John Storm, though it was plain that she was looking at him constantly. More than once he caught an expression of pain in her face, and felt pity for her as one of the brides who had acted the lie of marrying without love.
But his spirits were high. He welcomed everybody, and even bantered Mrs.
Callender when she told him she "objected to the hale thing," and said, "Weel, weel, wait a wee."
The Archdeacon gave the signal and led the way with Lady Robert to the drawing-room, where Mrs. Macrae, redolent of perfume, was reclining on a sofa with the "lady poodle" by her side. As soon as the company were seated the Archdeacon rose and coughed loudly.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "we have no a.s.surance of a blessing except "Ask and ye shall receive." Therefore, before we go further, it is our duty, as brethren of a common family in Christ, to ask the blessing of Almighty G.o.d on this enterprise."
There was a subdued rustle of drooping hats and bonnets, when suddenly a thin voice was heard to say, "Mr. Archdeacon, may I inquire first who is to ask the blessing?"
"I thought of doing so myself," said the Archdeacon with a meek smile.
"In that case, as a Unitarian, I must object to an invocation in which I do not believe."
There was a half-suppressed t.i.tter from the wall at the back, where Lord Robert Ure was standing with his face screwed up to his eyegla.s.s.
"Well, if the name of our Lord is a stumbling block to our Unitarian, brother, no doubt the prayer in this instance would be acceptable without the customary Christian benediction."
"That"s just like you," said a large man near the door, with whiskers all round his face. "You"ve been tr.i.m.m.i.n.g all your life, and now you are going to trim away the name of our Lord Jesus Christ."
"If our Low-Church brother thinks he can do better----"
But John Storm intervened. He had looked icy cold, though the twitching of his lower lip showed that he was red hot within.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said in a quavering voice, "I apologize for bringing you together. I thought if we were in earnest about the union of Christendom we might at least unite in the real contest with evil.
But I find it is a dream; we have only been trifling with ourselves, and there is not one of us who wants the union of Christendom, except on the condition that his rod shall be like Aaron"s rod which swallowed up all the rest. It was a mistake, and I beg your pardon."
"Yes, sir," said the Archdeacon, "it _was_ a mistake; and if you had taken my advice from the first, and asked the blessing of G.o.d through good High Churchmen alone----"
"G.o.d doesn"t wait for any asking," said John, now flushing up to the eyes. "He gives freely to High Churchmen, Low Churchmen, and No Churchmen alike."
"If that is your opinion, sir, you are no better than some of your friends, and for my part I will never darken your door again!"
"_Darken_ is a good word for it, Archdeacon," said John, and with that the company broke up.
Mrs. Macrae looked like a thunder-cloud as John bowed to her on pa.s.sing out, but Mrs. Callender cried out in a jubilant voice, "Be skipper of your ain ship, laddie!" and added (being two yards behind the Archdeacon"s broad back going down the stairs), "If some folks are to be inheritors of the kingdom of heaven there"ll be a michty crush at the pearly gates, I"m thinking!"
John Storm went back to Soho with a heavy heart. Going up Victoria Street he pa.s.sed a crowd of ragged people who were ploughing their way through the carriages. Two constables were taking a man and woman to the police court in Rochester Row. The prisoners were Sharkey, the keeper of the gambling house, and his wife the baby-farmer.
But within a week John Storm, in greater spirits than ever, was writing to Glory again:
"The Archdeacon has deserted me, but no matter! My uncle has advanced me another thousand of my mother"s money, so the crusade is _self_-supporting in one sense at all events. What a fool I am! Ask Aunt Anna her opinion of me, or say old Chalse or the village natural--but never mind! Folly and wisdom are relative terms, and I don"t envy the world its narrow ideas of either. You would be amused to see how the women of the West End are taking up the movement--Lady Robert Ure among the rest! They have banded themselves into a Sisterhood, and christened our clergy-house a "Settlement." One of my Greek owners came in the other evening to see the alterations. His eyes glistened at the change, and he asked leave to bring a friend. I trust you are well and settling things comfortably, and that Miss Macquarrie has gone. It is raining through a colander here, but I have no time to think of depressing weather. Sometimes when I cross our great squares, where the birds sing among the yellowing leaves, my mind goes off to your sweet home in the sunshine; and when I drop into the dark alleys and lanes, where the pale-faced children play in their poverty and rags, I think of a day that is coming, and, G.o.d willing, is now so near, when a ministering angel of tenderness and strength will be pa.s.sing through them like a gleam. But I am more than ever sure that you do well to avoid for the present the pompous joys of life in London, where for one happy being there are a thousand pretenders to happiness."
On the Sunday night following, Crook Lane, outside the clergy-house, was almost blocked with noisy people of both s.e.xes. They were a detachment of the "Skeletons," and the talk among them was of the trial of the Sharkeys, which had taken place the day before. "They"ve "ed six menths," said one. "And it"s all along o" minjee parsons," said another; and Charlie Wilkes, who had a certain reputation for humour, did a step-dance and sang some doggerel beginning--
Father Storm is a werry good man, "E does you all the "arm "e can.
Through this crowd two gentlemen pushed their way to the clergy-house, which was brilliantly lit up. One of them was the Greek owner, the other was Lord Robert Ure. Entering a large room on the ground floor, they first came upon John Storm, in ca.s.sock and biretta, standing at the door and shaking hands with everybody who came in and went out. He betrayed no surprise, but greeted them respectfully and then pa.s.sed them on.
Every moment of his time was occupied. The room was full of the young girls of the district, with here and there a Sister out of another world entirely. Some were reading, some conversing, some laughing, some playing a piano, and some singing. Their voices filled the air like the chirping of birds, and their faces were bright and happy. "Good-evening, Father," they said on entering, and "Good-night, Father," as they went away.
The two men stood some minutes and looked round the room. It was observed that Lord Robert did not remove his hat. He kept chewing the end of a broken cigarette, whereof the other end hung down his chin. One of the Sisters heard him say, "It will do with a little alteration, I think." Then he went off alone, and the Greek owner stepped up to John Storm.
It was not at first that John could attend to him, and when he was able to do so he began to rattle on about his own affairs. "See," he said with a delighted smile and a wave of the arm, "see how crowded we are!
We"ll have to think of taking in the next door soon."
"Father Storm," said the Greek, "I have something serious to say, though the official notification will of course reach you by another channel."
John"s face darkened as a ripe cornfield does when the sun dies away from it.
"I am sorry to tell you that the trustees, having had a favourable offer for this property----"
"Well?" His great staring eyes had stopped the man.
"----have decided to sell."
"_Sell_? Did you say se----? To whom? What?"
"To tell you the truth, to the syndicate of a music hall."
John staggered back, breathing audibly. "Now if a man had to believe that--Do you know if I thought such a thing _could_ happen----"
"I"m sorry you take the matter so seriously, Father Storm. It"s true you"ve spent money on the property, but, believe me, the trustees will derive no profit----"
"Profit? Money? Do you suppose I"m thinking of that, and not of the desecration, the outrage, the horror? But who are they? Is that man--Lord----"
The Greek had nodded his head, and John flung open the door. "Out of this! Out of it, you Judas!" And almost before the Greek had crossed the threshold the door was banged at his back.
The incident had been observed, and there was dead silence in the club-room, but John only cried, "Let"s sing something, girls," and when a Sister struck up his favourite Nazareth there was no voice so loud as his.
But he had realized everything. "Gloria" was coming back, and the work of months was overthrown!
When he was going home groups of the girls were talking in whispers in the hall, and Mrs. Pincher, who was wiping her eyes at the door, said, "I wonder you don"t drown yourself--I do!"