The Compact

THE COMPACT By J. Arthur Horne Of late Mrs. Rogers' face had worn a worried look. A strong odor of tobacco filled the room whenever her stalwart son was present. Twice she had actually seen him at a distance with a cigarette between his lips. For a long time he tried to hide from his mother the fact that he smoked, accounting for the tobacco smell about his clothes by reminding her that most of the men in the railroad office where he worked were heavy smokers. One morning at the breakfast table she took him to task about it. "Seymour," she said, "it seems almost incredible to me that with such a father as you had, you could have adopted a habit so distasteful to him — and to me. In his labors in the bishopric he strove above everything else to impress upon the boys of the ward the importance of keeping clean; he almost dedicated his life to that end." Her son stared down at the plate for a moment in silence. She felt that he was ashamed of his actions and determined if possible to make him confess it. While she waited for his answer she sipped slowly from her cup of fragrant coffee. Finally he raised his eyes and looked directly into hers. "Mother," he said, "does smoking really seem so bad to you? Some of the finest men we know are heavy smokers. The leading men in most of our business institutions and in our government, too, are users of tobacco." "But not in our Church," she returned quickly. "And why not in our Church?" he came back. "Because God has forbidden it," she replied. "Where do you get that?" he asked innocently enough. "In the Word of Wisdom, to be sure." "And is that all the Word of Wisdom mentions?" he persisted. She looked startled for a moment and set down her cup of coffee rather hastily. "No, it mentions strong drinks, too." "Anything else?" he went on relentlessly, a flash of amusement in his dark handsome eyes. "Oh, I know what you are driving at, tea and coffee, I know they are meant when it says 'hot drinks.' Surely, my son, you would not put tea and coffee on a plane with liquor, would you?" "And why not?" he asked. "Are they not listed together?" He folded his napkin and rose from the table. "Mother," he said earnestly, "I'll tell you what I'll do; you give up your coffee and I'll give up my tobacco." She was stunned. He put on his hat and coat and, coming over to her, kissed her lightly on the cheek. For a

420 IMPROVEMENT ERA moment he hung over her chair evidently waiting for her promise, but she looked up at him with a hurt expression on her face and allowed him to leave without committing herself. A triumphant smile curled his lips as he opened the door and went out. Mrs. Rogers sat for some time staring moodily across the table, then arose and poured herself another cup of coffee. Twice she raised the cup to her lips and set it down again untouched. Then she smiled and raising it to her mouth for the third time drank it with evident relish, as though it had almost been snatched away from her. "Perhaps smoking is not the worst sin in the world, after all," she mused, "for just as he said, many of our greatest men are addicted to the habit." But this twist in her attitude left her decidedly uneasy in mind. Her son, the only child of her short married life was all in all to her. She had watched him grow to manhood clean and straight and pure, interested in Sunday school, in Mutual, and in his quorum duties. It was when he left business college and entered the office of the railroad that he began to pull away from his early training. For some time after the conversation above referred to things had gone on about as usual in the Rogers' household. However, Mrs. Rogers found herself going to meeting more and more often alone. At first Seymour had merely made some excuse or other for not accom- panying her. But later he spent his Sunday mornings in bed and the balance of the day away from home. At last she questioned him about this. "How is it, Seymour, that you do not care to go to Sunday School or Mutual any more?" He stood before the mirror adjusting his tie. "I suppose, Mother," he answered, turning to face her, his hands still busy with the tie, "it's because so many of those sanctimon- ious saints talk about tobacco. They'd faint at sight of a cigarette, but wouldn't hesitate to squeeze the last nickle out of a poor widow for rent or the payment of a store bill." "I think that is hardly true, Seymour, for you know there is no kinder-hearted man living than Bishop Johns or the Harper brothers." He turned to face the mirror again a bit impatiently. "I have no quarrel with any of the Church people; they're as good as any in the world, no doubt, but are they any better?" "Yes, I think they are," she returned thoughtfully, laying aside the book she had been reading when the conversation began, "because they live for others as well as themselves." "Just the same," he told her, "I'm going where they don't make me feel that they are better than I." With that he left the room, slamming the door behind him. Mrs. Rogers felt helpless to meet the situation. Again and again her son's proposal recurred to her, but she

THE COMPACT 421 could not bring herself to give up her coffee. It seemed like taking all the joy out of life to think of a meal without tea or coffee. She resented her son's attitude and felt that it was unjust; he was shifting his responsibilities onto her shoulders, making her accountable for his sins. She had expected him to be more manly than that. Her coffee was not an offence to him, but his tobacco was an offence to her; there was that difference. Had he asked her to give up her theatres or wear less expensive clothes, she would have taken him up in a minute, but to give up her coffee — that was too much. She saw her son drawing farther and farther away from her. He seldom spent an evening at home any more, and was often grouchy at the breakfast table. Those breakfasts together had been the supreme joy of her life all through his high school and college days and during his first years at his work. The two had been so chummy and com- panionable but of late breakfast had become almost unbearable. If she should lose her son she knew that life would hold little to interest her. She determined to inquire a little more into his conduct. "Seymour," she said one night as he was about to leave the house, "where do you spend your evenings?" "You wouldn't know if I should tell you." he answered gruffly. "Why wouldn't I?" she demanded. "Because you've never been there," was his curt answer. She drew him gently to the big leather rocker and mildly pressed him into it, then she seated herself on its arm as she used to do — such a long time ago. She laid her hand on his dark-brown hair, stroking it back from his smooth white forehead. "What do you mean, my boy?" she said in an anxious voice. "Surely you are not associating with — ?" But the sentence ended in a little choking sob which she tried in vain to suppress. He arose from the chair brushing her aside almost roughly. "No, of course not. You don't understand, Mother. If I am to advance in railroad work I have to stand in with the fellows who are over me. They despise sissies. Remember, I have already had two promotions in less than a year. The fellows all like me and will do anything they can to help me along. All the big fellows go to cabarettes and other places of amusement where I go." "Why not take me with you sometime? Often a mother can do more than any one else to advance the interests of her son," she said eagerly. "Oh, you wouldn't care for the frivolous parties we have." "And why wouldn't I?" she clung on desperately. She felt that he had almost slipped from her grasp and the next minute would see him swallowed up in darkness. "I don't think you'd like the girls very much." "Are they bad girls?"

422 IMPROVEMENT ERA "Oh, no, only some of them smoke a little." "O Seymour," she cried reproachfully. She placed her hands on his forearms and with anxious, sorrowing eyes, looked up into his still handsome face. "Surely you cannot think that such companions will promote your business interests. It is a trick of the evil one to draw you away with silken cords until he can bind you with heavy chains. Stop! before it is too late." "Piffle," he said, and jerking away from her, left the house abruptly. Mrs. Rogers threw herself into a chair and sobbed bitterly. "O God in heaven," she cried, "is this the end? Has my baby boy, my son, my pride and joy, sunk to the level of the street? What will his father say when I meet him on the other side? Will he hold me blameless? I wonder if I am too late now to make the compact with him." She dried her eyes, new hope springing up in her heart. "Oh, I hope I am not too late. Father above, give me strength. I'll do anything to save my boy." That night Seymour did not come home from work at his usual hour. She waited an hour longer, then telephoned to the office. "I believe he joined some of the boys1 on a motor trip," came the answer over the wire. "They were planning to go up one of the canyons this afternoon." A feeling of uneasiness seized her. She could eat nothing of their dinner, now grown cold, and set the things away without touching a bite. She walked from room to room, gazing ceaselessly out of the windows into the darkened street and listening anxiously for the approach of every footfall she heard on the pavement, but they all died off into the distance. About ten o'clock the telephone rang. She took down the re- ceiver with trembling fingers. "Hello, is this Mrs. Rogers?" a strange voice asked. "Yes," she said. "This is the County Hospital. Your son has been injured in an automobile accident. Could you come at once?" She almost flew about putting on her wraps. Before many minutes had passed she was on her way to the hospital. When she announced her name to the head nurse, she was conducted at once to the operating room where the house doctor was putting the finishing touches to some bandages about Seymour's head. She wanted to throw her arms at once about her boy, but the nurse held her back. "He is still under the influence of the anaesthetic; he would not recognize you," she said. The doctor turned from finishing his task and looked at her. "Do you wish to have him removed to one of the other hos- pitals?" he asked. "His wounds, though serious, are not necessarily dangerous, if no infection sets in." "If I could arrange to keep him here I would much prefer not

THE COMPACT 42 3 to move him," she said. And so it was that Seymour remained where he was, being assigned to a room on the third floor of the building. She sat by his side until he recovered from the anaesthetic. She did not realize until that moment the marked change in the features of her son the last few years had wrought. He opened his eyes and stared at her a moment in bewilderment. His pale lips moved. "Mother," he murmured feebly. She put her hands over his as it lay on the counterpane and he closed his eyes again. "So good of you to come," he went on in a scarcely audible voice. This hurt her. Was he so far estranged from her that he considered it a kindness on her part to come and see him lying wounded in a hospital? The hot tears burned in her eyes but she winked them back. The nurse came in. "I think you might better go home and get some rest, Mrs. Rogers," the nurse advised. "He's too weak to talk and your presence might induce him to attempt an explanation of the accident. Come to- morrow afternoon and I think you will find him much better." She accepted the advice and returned to her home. The next morning in the papers she read a full account of the gay motor party which had ended so disastrously. "A bottle of moonshine and two empty flasks were found in the wrecked car," the officers stated, adding that this was evidently the cause of the accident. The writer of the article spared no one, but gave a list of the names and addresses of all the participants. It seemed to Mrs. Rogers that her humiliation was complete. She could almost feel the eyes of the boy's father looking at her reproachfully. How could she go to meetings in the ward now? How could she hold up her head again among the good sisters of the Relief Society? It was a very humble woman who wended her way to the hospital that afternoon. She found Seymour still very weak and persuaded him to remain quiet until she should visit him again about seven o'clock that evening. It was then that he told her the full details. "I advised Blake to cut out the liquor," he said, "but the fool would have it; said the girls would have a lot more pep and dash with a shot or two of moon- shine inside of them. The whole bunch got stewed and the next thing I knew they were bringing me into this hospital." Much more he told her which need not concern us here. She could not tell from his recital whether he felt any sense of humiliation over the affair or not. When the visiting hour was up she took her departure. It was several days before she spoke to him about the subject that lay nearest her heart. "Seymour," she said as she took his hand in both of hers, "do you remember telling me one morning at the breakfast table that if I would give up my coffee you would give up your tobacco? Would you do that now?" "Mother," he returned, "I'm not worth much but there is one thing left in my character — I never break my word. If you think I'm

424 IMPROVEMENT ERA worth the effort we'll make that compact now." She leaned over the bed and pressed his lips with such a kiss as only a mother can give. "To seal the compact," she said. She left the hospital that afternoon with the lightest heart she had known for a long time. She found upon her arrival home a letter in the mailbox ad- dressed to her son. It was from the railroad office where he worked. She took the letter in and laid it on the table, but she picked it up several times. Somehow it seemed a foreboding of evil. She feared to take it to her son in his weakened condition. Finally she decided to open it and see if it contained anything of importance. She took from the envelope a check for three hundred and fifty dollars, and a letter which read: "The unfortunate episode in which you figured recently, coupled with the fact that your work in this office has been very much below the high standard we require, has made it necessary to dispense with your services. We are handing you herewith a check for two month's salary which we think will provide for you until you can get located in some other position." Mrs. Rogers crushed the letter in her hands and, sinking into a chair beside the table, bowed her head in grief over the crumpled sheet. She sat for a long time thus, then she arose, weak and trembling, and going to the cupboard took out the coffee pot and set it on the range. She poured into it some hot water from the tea kettle and then added a tablespoonful of ground coffee. She did all this mechanically. "How will he ever stand this blow," she kept repeating over and over to herself. When the coffee came to a boil she poured some of it into a cup and set it on the table. She sweetened it with sugar and poured in a bit of cream. She drew up a chair and prepared to seek what comfort she could from this source. She raised the steam- ing beverage to her lips, then she thought of her compact. It was like a blow in the face. No, this consolation was now denied her. She looked at the cup with eager longing eyes. Perhaps this once wouldn't matter. In the morning it would be easier to abstain from it — she would be stronger then. She raised the cup once more to her lips. Something arrested her hand, almost like a voice speaking to her came the words: "Perhaps Seymour, too, will want to seek consolation in a cigar or cigarette." She looked about the room guiltily. Quickly she set down the cup. "No," she said closing her lips firmly, "the compact must not be broken." She rose abruptly from the table and cleared away the things. Never in her whole life had she experienced such a craving for her favorite beverage. She went to bed, hoping to forget her craving in slumber, but all the long night through no sleep touched her eyelids. In the morning she rose, weak and weary; and the temptation to break her compact became almost unbearable. A great fear came over her that she would not be able to keep faith with her son. Again like a voice speaking, came words to her, "Why don't you pray?" Without loss of a moment she went into

THE COMPACT 425 her bedroom and knelt down in fervent prayer. She arose from her knees feeling much less depressed. She went immediately into the kitchen and dumped the contents of the coffee pot into the sink. She boiled an egg, but ate only a mouthful; it seemed dry and tasteless without her usual cup of coffee. Her head ached violently. At noon she fared no better. A dizziness1 seized her and she went about her household tasks like one in a daze. In the afternoon she went as usual to the hospital, but said nothing to Seymour about the letter. "You look worried, Mother," he said in greeting. "Did you go without your cup of coffee this morning?" "Of course," she assured him. "You haven't been smoking, have you ? ' ' "I should say not," he replied with spirit. "But you, why, you dear, brave, little mother; I didn't think you could live without your cup of coffee." "It is hard, Seymour," she confessed, "I had no idea it would be so bad. If you find it equally as hard to break off smoking, I pity you." "You poor little mother, I'll release you right now from your part of the compact and I'll quit smoking, too." She shook her head. "When you come home, Seymour, you'll find no coffee at our house." For days and days her struggle went on. She was irritable and moody and her nights were spent in fitful slumber. It told visibly on her appearance; she grew thin and pale under the strain. Only her faith in God kept her up. The heart of her son was torn with pity for her. He pleaded with her to give up her part of the compact. "Not for a minute," she^said in answer to his entreaties, "other women have struggled through it, and I'm just as brave as they are." At last the day came when Seymour was released from the hos- pital and came home with her. It was then she allowed him to read the letter from the railroad office. He read it through several times in silence. "I guess they're right, Mother," he said smiling ruefully. "I've been all kinds of a fool, and this is no more than I deserve. It's hard when I had built up such hopes for my future there, and since we made the compact I determined I'd show Mr. Marshall the hardest working man he'd ever laid eyes on. All the advancement we make at the office is on the basis of length of service. It takes years of steady employment to get anywhere with a railroad. Now all my seniority has been swept away. When I begin again anywhere I'll have to start at the bottom, with probably not more than half the salary I was getting there. How shall I provide properly for you now? For answer she came and sat beside him and laid her hand caressingly on his head. "Seymour, I don't care anything for fine clothes or parties or —

426 IMPROVEMENT ERA or — coffee, either, if I can have my boy back again like he was before. I feel sorry for you losing your position, for your sake but not for mine." "I know, Mother, you're a brick, but I never want to see you have to go to church like poor old Mrs. Bradley in her faded coat and funny little hat." "What does it matter how we are dressed, if we keep God's commandments?" "It matters this much, Mother, that nobody is counted anything even in our Church, unless they have money." "I know," she admitted, "that there are many in our Church who cater to money, but I hardly think God measures our worth by the size of our purse. I shall count this accident of your9 and the loss of your position a great blessing even if we "have to go through poverty and distress, if out of it there emerges a pure unsullied youth of Zion, worthy to be called his father's son. It has taught me a lesson, too, for I never realized what a blind and selfish woman I was until you showed me." He reached up and put his hand over her mouth. "I cannot stand to hear such words as blind and selfish applied to my mother, even from her own lips," he said. "I certainly would be a heartless son if I could witness the brave fight you have put up and not keep my part of the compact. Sunday we will go to church." That Seymour was having a struggle too, she had no doubt, for she heard him sigh at sight of a passing workman smoking a pipe; and when the plumber came to fix the taps, Seymour hastily left the room when the fellow took out a cigarette to light it. Another time they were on the sidewalk, the man ahead of them was smoking, and Seymour contrived some excuse to delay them until the man had passed from sight. At night she heard him moaning in his sleep and, slipping on her kimona, she entered his room. Standing beside his bed and looking down at his restless form she offered up her heartfelt prayers in his behalf. But through it all he dropped no hint of his feelings. He seemed more kind and thoughtful of her than he had ever been before. Seymour sought employment in every direction. Sometimes he was rewarded with a few day's work in one place and a day or two in another, but nothing permanent. The episode in the canyon followed him like a phantom; no one cared to trust him with any responsibility. Mrs. Rogers had a long talk with her Bishop one Sunday and told him something of their story. He had noticed, he said, that Seymour was quite regular in attendance at his meetings and had concluded that the young man had taken a turn for the better. "Mrs. Rogers," he said, "I am well acquainted with Mr. Dean (the local head of the railroad for which Seymour had worked) and if

THE COMPACT 42 7 I were you I would go up and have a talk with him. If you like I'll go along and introduce you to him." She was delighted and made an appointment to meet him the next morning at ten o'clock. She went home with a light heart, but of her conversation with the Bishop, she said nothing to Seymour. In the secrecy of her own room she laid the whole matter before her Father in heaven. She believed in her son and prayed earnestly for guidance on the morrow. The next day she kept her appointment with the Bishop and together they went to Mr. Dean's office. They were ushered into a spacious room with heavy upholstered furniture and soft rugs. Seated behind a shining, polished table was Mr. Dean, the highest railroad authority in the state. Mr. Dean received them kindly, excused his secretary, and shoving his papers aside invited them to be seated. The Bishop excused himself after briefly announcing the purpose of the visit. Mr. Dean turned to her expectantly. Mrs. Rogers plunged into her story a little nervously at first, but the kindly comments and searching questions of her auditor reassured her and she made her appeal for her boy as one friend to another. She was surprised that he knew so much about Seymour, evidently knowing his record from the time he first entered the office. In her recital she kept nothing back. Though Mr. Dean was not a member of the Church to which she be- longed and was, so far as she knew a heavy smoker himself, she did not hesitate to tell him all about their compact. "There's an underlying principle there, Mrs. Rogers, which many of your people overlook," he said, "but it counts heavily with us. When a man professes a thing and then fails to live up to it. we know that his head steam is not sufficient to make the grade. If I believed smoking was wrong, I wouldn't smoke. Your son gave every promise of making a first-class railroad man and we welcomed him among us. I was sorry when he failed to keep his draw-bars tight. Gay parties and late hours do not make railroad men. I believe what you say is true, Mrs. Rogers, and if Mr. Marshall is willing I shall be glad to recommend his reinstatement. Tell your son to call and see Mr. Marshall in the morning." "Oh, Mr. Dean," she exclaimed, "how can I thank you for your kindness?" "No thanks are needed. If he makes good he will be a valuable asset to the company." He turned once more to his stack of papers and bowed and smiled to her as she left the room. Her feet did not seem to touch the ground as she hurried home to tell Seymour the glad news. He was not home when she arrived and she had to wait until night to tell him. In her mind she reviewed that early challenge he had made to her and what it had cost her not to make the compact then. She thought of the days and months and the years of suffering her refusal had cost them both, and compared them with

428 IMPROVEMENT ERA the days of happiness she had experienced since the compact was made and kept. Seymour came in tired and discouraged from his day's fruitless search for employment and threw himself wearily into a chair. "I have good news for you, my boy," she said, coming over to him and kissing him. "Ye9," he answered listlessly, looking up into her beaming face. "Mr. Dean says for you to call and see Mr. Marshall in the morning.'" "What!" exclaimed the young man springing to his feet, his weariness slipping from him like a cloak. "Mother," he said seizing her almost roughly by the shoulders, "you're not fooling me, are you?" "Of course not, you foolish boy. I had a long talk with Mr. Dean in his office this morning. The Bishop suggested it and then went along and introduced me." Then she told him all about it. "Well, bless his kind heart." Seymour said, almost in tears, "Maybe God has forgiven me a little bit for my waywardness." Then he threw his arms about his mother and caught her in a bear- like hug. "Your right, I'll make the grade when I have such a brave little fighting mother to fire my engine for me and keep a full head of steam on." She looked at him with shining eyes and kissed him just like they had made another compact. Sandy, Utah. Our Richest Treasures Our richest of treasures, our children, God given, are priceless indeed, How great is our duty, as parents, To sow in their hearts righteous seed. To teach and to train and to guide them, In kindness, in truth, and in love, That in time again they'll be worthy To dwell in the heavens above. Important that we should remember They lived e'er they came here below. As spirits immortal; mature, Their value our God only knows. Then think ere ye chide too severely. Our brothers and sisters are they, Begotten by parents eternal Sent here for a very short stay. To us has been given the privilege, Their parents, on this earth, to be; As such they will honor and bless us If our part we'll do faithfully. Mesa, Arizona. ETHEL R. LlLLYWHITE.