Hearts and Hollyhocks

barts andfjollyhocks c/7 Story) of Love, Struggle and Society} I{uthMc?nchBel! Chapter VIII By tacit agreement, neither Edna nor John made any at- tempt to talk over their misfortune. It was always before them, immeasurable, insurmountable, incalculable. Their very silence on the subject drew them closer together. Once, however, when their affairs seemed more promising, she begged him to tell her where he had been all those months before he had let her know. He told her of the stealthy ride on the freight to the coast. Shielded by a kind brakeman, who recognized him and helped him with a disguise, he reached the coast and shipped out with horses to Panama. From thence he had worked his way to New York. "If the boat had gone down," Edna moaned, clinging closer to him. "If I had lost you and not been able to tell you that I love you more than all else in the world!" Spring came at last. Spring in New York! Times were better for them. One Sabbath they even afforded a car ride out into the country where the dogwood blossoms and little wood violets grew. Why was it harder to forget out there? Why did the innocent fragrance of the spring blossoms stab poig- nantly at all that was finest in them? Never before had Edna cried when John was near. But the flowers and the sunshine hurt so the tears would "come. And then they were so wonder- fully alone out there with only the friendly trees, the bene- ficent clouds and the young grass and flowers near them. "It was all my fault, John," she cried, "my pride, my de- sire to live near Judith and have as nice things as she had! Think of straining for possessions like those when things like these might have been ours for nothing ! If we had got some pleasure out of the other! It was nothing but feverish strife, heart- aches and bitterness — and — this!" "Don't," John begged, "you can't take it all on you. Do you suppose my pride had nothing to do with it? Don't you suppose it was hard on me to see you outclassed and myself regarded as a failure, because I could not provide you with clothes and cars like the others had? The others, the best, as they think themselves, those we strained to ape, I wonder if they ever think of us with anything but scorn and contempt!" "We mustn't become bitter, dear."

556 IMPROVEMENT ERA "I know. And I have only myself to blame. I meant to pay it all back after the first time. But you needed things and I did want to show them that I, too, could make money if I had a chance. And then since I had done it once, it looked easy to do it again and make a stake, and then pay it all back without anyone being wiser. I was gullible! I can see it now. It was all a hoax, the first success, just to lead me on to a bigger plunge. The mistake was in yielding the first time. I meant to put you up where you were meant to be, and I have dragged you down to this!" "Hush, dearest, you see it doesn't do to talk it over. It would drive us mad." Two little girls ran by them, their arms full of blossoms. Edna's sobs broke out afresh. "If they could only have been ours!" John pressed her hand in silent sympathy. The sun was getting low so they left the woods and made their way to a street car to return to the ugliness and squalor of their tene- ment. On their way to their lodgings they came upon a little girl, thin,; ragged and dirty, crying her heart out in a doorway. Edna stopped to comfort her and learned the sad reason of her tears. "The boys and girls tease me," she cried, "because my papa's a jail-bird. But he never meant to steal. Mama was sick and we were so hungry. And he could get no work." "It is always the same," John groaned, "always a reason, never one sufficient. But I'm glad now, I'm reconciled that we have no children. It is better that we alone suffer." There came a tap at the door. Both started up in terror. Had the law found them at last? Edna answered the knock while John stepped into the small closet. It was another warn- ing from a friend. A detective had been seen in the neigh- borhood. Scarcely daring to seek employment again, John took their small savings and got him a push.cart and supplies. But Edna became too ill to work. The strain and lack of nourishing food was beginning to tell terribly on her. Scarcely a night now that she did not wake finding herself sitting up in bed moan- ing that they had taken him. Almost every time she dosed off she would find herself smothering a cry of terror that he had been found. She was beginning to have but one dream : he was gone and she would grope in agony till she found him. The sound of a telephone set her nerves jangling. A knock at the door nearly drove her into hysterics. Every policeman she saw struck terror to her heart. Every corner she turned might be the one that led to John's cell in jail, because she

HEARTS AND HOLLYHOCKS 557 might come face to face with a detective who would recognize her and follow her to John. She finally became so ill that her condition was alarming. They could not afford a doctor. The landlady told them of a free medical clinic for the poor. Edna winced at the term. She had not thought of herself as classed with ihe poor, poor as their condition was. She went to the clinic only to be told that she must have better food, raw and cooked vegetables and fruits, milk, eggs, cereals, well cooked. How could they cook them at all? She must quit worry and walk daily in the fresh air, joyously, care-free, she must walk. Edna tried not to laugh at the irony of the prescription. But she knew she must try to carry it out. She must not fail John now. She must pray instead of worry. She would eat raw carrots: they were cheap. She even learned to laugh when John called them "Mormon" bananas. He told her of a certain pro- fessor and "Mormon" apostle, of former days, who saw Ttaly to- gether subsisting on raw carrot and cabbage and dry Italian bread. John now made her eat the eggs and milk; she had made him eat them before; and he never once told her that the supplies of the push-cart were running low and he was spending all he got to bring back her health. She took her walks, looking resolutely for patches of blue sky between the tall buildings instead of patches or batches of blue-coated po- licemen. She listened for birds instead of footsteps of de- tectives. And gradually her health returned and she was able to laugh once in a while. Then John told her that he had sold the push-cart and would have to seek employment again. Edna received the news quietly and, as she was so much improved in health, insisted that she try to find work. Both set out again to seek employ- ment, well knowing that any advertisement they answered might be a decoy to catch him. Fortunately their crisis came late in the spring when work was more plentiful so both were again drawing wages. WTien work was over, it was hard to stay in their ugly room while spring's advancing beauty called them out of doors. But parks and river fronts were dangerous places, to be visited with more safety after dark. How they longed to go to church; but they must bring no stigma on their people. As their church affiliations were well known, the church services might be a likely place for them to be apprehended. Many a time as the warmer weather made open windows desirable, they lingered on the outside, across the street, listening to the singing. "We are like moths," Edna thought, "singeing our wings against the light of God's love." How good the old, familiar songs sounded and how comforting:

558 IMPROVEMENT ERA "Oh, my Father," "God moves in a mysterious way his wonders to perform." But also, how the songs with their associations of happy, care-free days, hurt. So well did Edna please, in her new employment in the department store, that she was raised from the salary of eight dollars a week, which at first looked so big to them, to the princely sum of twelve dollars a week and promised also the position of district manager. The world began to look much brighter. How big twelve dollars a week looked to them. What vast wealth it represented to them: eggs, fruit, milk, vege- tables became frequent possibilities. A nicer room, a few clothes also might be theirs, if John, too, could find better em- ployment. Chance newspapers left on park benches kept them posted on the employment openings. In one of these papers John found an advertisement that sounded particularly promising. Full of hope, John went to answer the call, telling Edna that he would phone her if he succeeded in getting something. As soon as he left, the old fear assailed Edna's heart. Was it a lure to trap him? Two hours later the phone in her de- partment rang. The message was for her. Hoping and fearing she took up the receiver. A voice so strange she could not recog- nize it called her by name. Her reply must have indicated her bewilderment for the voice cried: "Don't you know me, dear?" "No," she answered, and indeed she did not. "This is John," the voice said. "They have found me at last. The advertisement was merely a decoy on purpose to find me. They have just wired Herron to come on and get me." Edna hung up the receiver. Her feet seemed leaden as she tried to move them to her manager to get her time. He urged her to stay, telling her that the district managership was in sight. But she told him they were forced to leave New York for the west. The officer and detective were waiting for her when she arrived at her room; and John was in hand-cuffs. Surely that bit of degradation was not necessary. The detective smiled tri- umphantly. Great work that, to have caught a hounded rat in a trap. His smile faded a trifle when he caught sight of Edna's face and the quiver of her lip as she attempted to kiss John. She packed their few belongings. A suit case would have held everything. All the while both thought of one thing: Jack Herron was to come for them, Jack Herron, Sheriff Her- ron, John's school mate and hers. He and John had played marbles together. Jack Herron and she had danced together. How every one in their home town would talk! The ordeal

HEARTS AND HOLLYHOCKS 559 was harder even than they had dreamed it would be. How she longed to talk to John alone, just for a minute. What could she say to him with another always near? And now there would always be another near. This was the law, a law made to pro- tect humlanity from such as they. Such as they, poor, pitiful blunderers! Edna managed a smile for John and pressed his arm comfortingly as they walked on in silence, with the pitying glances of the underworld following them. (To be continued) An Answer to Prayer — or What? By Hugh ]. Cannon, President of the Liberty Stake of Zion Some years ago I happened to be in the office of the First Presidency when Henry M. Stanley, the noted African explorer, called on Presidents Wilford Woodruff, George Q. Cannon and Joseph F. Smith. In the course of the conversation which ensued the visitor expressed, and very feelingly, his great ad- miration for a community which could successfully accomplish such a marvelous task as that imposed upon the Latter-day Saints. He knew, because of his own experiences in undeveloped countries, the difficulties which had been overcome. In his opinion, it requires the highest degree of courage for a well equipped, sturdy band of men inured to hardships to venture as far from the boundaries of civilization as did our pioneers when they came from the east, even if the motive in coming is but to explore the country. "But," continued he, "instead of that you were almost en- tirely stripped of your possessions and in consequence had very poor equipment. You brought your wives and children, your infirm and aged. No retreat was possible. A desolate and forbidding country was to be your home, and here you had to survive or perish. Human wisdom would have decreed that you must fail, but you did not. Now in looking over your achievements, your beautiful valleys, fruitful fields, prosper- ous cities and comfortable homes, I am filled with astonish- ment." One of the brethren suggested that this could never have been accomplished except for the power of the Almighty which was constantly manifest. **I can well accept that statement as the truth," responded Mr. Stanley, "Because I, too, am a devout believer in the aid which comes through prayer."

560 IMPROVEMENT ERA He related a numjber of his personal experiences, bearing upon this point, one of which became fixed in my memory. In substance it^was this: On one of his exploring trips to Africa, he and two com- panions left the main company and went on a rather extended tour into the interior. Their supply of food was limited as they expected to find game and fish with which to supplement their larder. However, in this they were wholly disappointed. Day after day passed without any sign of relief. They pushed for- ward vigorously, thinking always that tomorrow would bring about a change in this particular. At last their stock of pro- visions was exhausted and starvation confronted them. "We had gone supperless to bed," said Mr. Stanley, "and arose gloomy and despondent. I suggested that the two men go up the stream on whose banks we had camped and that I would go in the opposite direction. After their departure I went into our little tent, knelt down and entreated my Heavenly Father to extricate us from our perilous position. I submitted our case to Him with an earnestness that only a man similarly situated can command. Arising from my knees I picked up a stick which I had used as a cane and stepped out into the open. At that very moment a large wild duck flew past the door of the tent so near me that I struck it with the stick. "When the men returned to camp, discouraged because of their fruitless quest, they found a meal prepared which they pronounced the best they had ever tasted. "During its progress, I told my companions about the peti- tion and its miraculous answer. One of them scoffed at the story and thought me very childish. "Your prayer had nothing whatever to do with that duck flying past," said he. 'It would have come along just the same if you had not prayed.' " 'But I would not have been there to get it,' was my reply, 'If I had not gone into the tent and asked for divine assistance, I should have been tramping around as fruitlessly as you were. Furthermore, when a despairing man pleads with the Lord for something and receives what he asks for, is he not an ingrate if he assumes the attitude that it would have come to him in what he terms a natural way even had he not prayed? I asked for something and got it, could I expect more? Gratitude compels me to acknowledge the gift as an answer to my request." PRAYER "If thou wilt bow down before God, * * * and call on his name in faith * * * then shalt thou receive the hope which thou desirest." — Alma 22:16.