--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Cheney, Silas L. collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 30 number: 5 published: 1927-03 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: "Cheney, Silas L., “An Awakening,” *Improvement Era* 30, no. 5 (March 1927): 451–457." source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera3005unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera3005unse start_page: 451 end_page: 457 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1927-03) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera3005unse publication_year: 1927 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1927, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # An Awakening AN AWAKENING By Silas L. Cheney "Hey, Sis, not ready yet?" called Willis Garland impatiently. "If you don't hurry, we'll be late sure." "In a minute," she replied, still continuing to pose before her mirror, critically examining and admiring every line of her pretty dress and dainty slippers. "Aren't they sweet, though?" she exulted. She clasped a string of imitation pearls about her neck and again paused to admire. Nature had surely been kind in supplying her with a mass of shimmering, flaxen hair, eyes of deepest violet, and "cheeks like roses in the snow." She had every reason to be proud of these charms, since they were natural; the kind that would stand the wash. It reminded her of what her father had said about the country girls being genuine. "Well, why shouldn't they be?" she muttered sardonically, "It's a sure thing they go through enough fire to burn away the dross." Almost immediately she was smiling again, happy in her secret knowledge that the clever, sophisticated Mr. Ferguson would be at the dance where no doubt he would shower her with favors as he had done on several former occasions. In order to be free to accept them if pro- ferred, she had steadily refused to make any dates for the evening, although hard-pressed to do so, and instead had insisted on going to the dance with her brother and his girl. If things turned out as she expected, it would be like enjoying something long desired and would certainly create a stir. The girls would be envious, the fellows jealous, and her father would be jarred into another one of his stormy lectures. He had no love for "that no-account drummer," as he termed Mr. Fer- guson. In fact he was opposed to her accepting attentions from any one of the "here today and gone tomorrow" type, since she had no way of knowing what kind of fellows they really were. "Better be satisfied with some one of the home boys, such as Joe Bates, who is 'crazy' about you," her father had said. But Renae was only satisfied with them so long as nothing better was in sight. She considered Joe all right, in a way, but his being a farmer eliminated him, in so far as she was concerned. What she was after, she told herself, was "big game." Again there was an eruption from her brother, this time of a much more threatening nature. She was perfectly aware that it would not do to try his patience too far, so hastily slipping on a pair of goloshes, she rushed into the front room carrying a coat in one hand and a scarf in the other. James stopped his grumbling and gazed at her in aston- ishment. "You're looking fine tonight," he said as he helped her with her coat. He greatly admired his pretty sister, notwithstanding appear- 452 IMPROVEMENT ERA ances to the contrary, and nothing pleased him more than to hear the fellows "rave" about her. "Here are some quilts," said Mr. Garland, handing one to each of them, "This storm makes it rather miserable. You'll need them to keep warm." Ranae paused to kiss him on the cheek and whisper an endearing word in his ear before dashing out. He faltered slightly as he responded to this caress, "You are very pretty, my girl. Take care of yourself." "Good-night," they called back as they splashed out through the storm to the badly battered Ford. The ride that followed was like a nightmare to Renae, through darkness, rain and mud. Occasionally James would slow down almost to a stop in order to pass safely over some especially bad place in the road, then off they would go again, splashing, swaying, rattling. Fortunately when they reached Clark's, Mamie was all ready and met Willis at the door. "Hello, Renae," she cried as Willis helped her in. "I'm glad you are along. We'll be well chaperoned now, won't we, Willis?" "Oh, don't mind me." replied Renae dryly, "I have eyes that see not and ears that hear not, when occasion requires it." Nothing more passed between them. They were too interested in themselves to think of her, and she was too concerned with her own thoughts to mind them. Of one thing she was conscious, however, and that was that they were holding hands under cover of the quilt. She considered such a flirtation dull and stupid, and was thankful when they eventually reached their destination. As they drew up before the hall, the orchestra began pounding out a lively fox-trot which was immediately accompanied by an under- current of dancing feet and happy voices. This set them all aglow with expectancy. Depositing their wraps at the cloak room, they commenced jostling their way through the crowd of fellows who stood awkwardly about the entrance ready to dash out if frightened by the dazzling array of happy, smiling maidens. With a crash-ity-crash! Bang! the orchestra ceased playing, and the dancers came crowding reluctantly to their seats. Almost at once, a sharp demarkation of sexes took place; the boys, mopping their per- spiring faces with handkerchiefs, gravitated toward the crowd standing about the door, while the girls collected in groups of varying sizes to engage in a kind of effervescent chatter peculiar to their species. Renae was soon the center of one of the groups; for, as usual, the girls gathered about to admire her attire with an exaggeration born of envy. She was greatly pleased at this, for experience had taught her that jealousy speaks as truthfully as love, if only one is able to interpret it. As she had expected, the conversation shortly changed to a subject of even more interest to her than herself. AN AWAKENING 453 "Say, isn't that Mr. Ferguson an agreeable dancer though?" asked one. "Yes, but the friend he has with him tonight is just about as good, and, if anything, is better looking. Mr. Ferguson is too dark." "Mr. Ferguson is all. right," supplied a third, "but I, for one, wouldn't give much for his taste in girls. Why, have you seen how he is hanging around Blanche Mathie tonight?" Renae hated herself for not being able to ignore this thinly- masked thrust. She knew all the girls were scrutinizing her and there- fore must notice the hurt expression which she could not prevent ap- pearing in her eyes. A few minutes later, however, she had ample revenge, for as soon as Mr. Ferguson could break away from Blanche, he came over to engage her for the next dance. He was frank with his admiration as he lavished his attentions upon her. He danced with her so many times that whispers began to circulate in real earnest. James glared at her warningly and Joe — poor Joe — looked so hurt that she really felt sorry for him. But how supremely happy she was! She could not understand why her father and James objected to Mr. Fer- guson so much. To her, he seemed an embodiment of all her wild yearnings. His faultless appearance and polished manners contrasted strikingly with those of the cheap, awkward farm boys who were con- stantly endeavoring to force their attentions upon her. Instead of being tongue-tied, or having to mumble something about the weather, his conversation ran on smoothly, presenting an everchanging, never-ending panorama of persons, places and things. No wonder she was greatly flattered by his attentions. After a prolonged one-step, she welcomed the invitation to sit out a dance with him. Getting their wraps, they made their way care- fully to where his car was parked. For a time she enjoyed the sensation of sitting quietly by his side, then, suddenly, she was startled by his asking her how she would like to live in the city where she could attend social functions, theaters, and concerts with people of refinement and culture. "That has always been my dream," she replied pensively. "Such people must enjoy things that we here know nothing about." "Then you really think you would like that better than being a 'Maud Muller?' " he questioned laughingly. "Oh, I dislike farming. I believe it is the most stupid and miser- able way of living in the world." "If that is the way you feel, why don't you give it up, run away from it, abandon it?" "But suppose I did, what would I do then?" she asked with concern. "Do?" he exclaimed. "I'll tell you what you could do. You're the most fascinating girl in the world. How I would love to possess you. Are you following me? We both like the same things; the 454 IMPROVEMENT ERA things I have are the things you want. Why not get married and enjoy them together?" As she listened to this declaration, she saw the door of opportunity opening before her. Was it possible? She could scarcely believe her ears. "Why — a — you're surely joking," she stammered. "Joking, no; little girl, you know I'm not," and he bent and kissed her so passionately that the warm blood went dancing through her veins. "Then — you must know my answer, or rather, what it would be if it weren't for the unreasonable dislike Daddy has for you. But as it is, what can I do?" she faltered. "Your ignorance is refreshing. Why, the consent of mother and father now-a-days is a matter of no great importance. When love beckons, young people are beginning to know enough to follow. It is a good thing, too, for if it were not so, there would be a great deal more unhappiness in the world than there is. I'm certainly glad the old folks don't have to do the choosing for me. They might not select you, and then how unhappy I'd be." "But, you see, Daddy has always been so kind, and then he de- pends upon me so much, particularly since mother died, that it makes me feel like a criminal to think of hurting him in any way." " That is all very well," he replied, "but are you willing to permit even this to destroy a lifetime of happiness for both of us? If your dad would give me a chance I'm sure he would come to like me and then everything would be all right. He might not give his consent now, but be assured he would when he saw how happy you were." "I think so, too," she replied thoughtfully. "Then how about running down to the city for the ceremony and perhaps coming back for a short visit before taking a honeymoon trip, possibly to Europe?" "All right," she consented, looking up at him bewitchingly. "You packet of sweetness!" and he drew her closely to him, smothering her with kisses. She became frightened at the fierceness of his passion, and strug- gled to free herself, but he held her so fast that it took all the strength she had to draw away from him. "Oh, I beg your pardon," he muttered shamefacedly. "My love for you got the better of my discretion." "It was only that you were smothering me," she said apologet- ically, thinking that, after all, it was merely .the way he had of express- ing his affection. Apparently men had different methods of letting a girl know how much she meant to them. Some contented themselves with holding hands, under patchwork quilts, others lavished one with kisses. To her, both were distasteful, but what was a girl to do? She was afraid she had displeased him by the way she had acted and there- AN AWAKENING 45 5 fore was much relieved when he continued the conversation as if nothing had happened. "Is it all settled then, Renae?" "All but the details," she replied. "Yes, there are details, of course;" then, as the swelling strains of dance music reached them, he exclaimed, "But there goes the fox-trot they promised us. I simply must get back. I have this dance with Miss Morton and if I fail to make my appearance her old man would never give me another order. We can complete our plans during our next dance, 'Nicht war,' darling?" He sprang out of the car and turned to assist her. "I would rather stay here, if I may," she said. "I feel much too tired and happy to mix with that noisy crowd again tonight." "Just as you wish. I'll be out to keep you company shortly." The sound of his footsteps had scarcely died away when she heard others approaching, accompanied by a low rumble of conver- sation. She thought nothing of this until her name was mentioned in connection with Mr. Ferguson's. Then she tried to ascertain who the speakers were. There were two men, and from their voices, she soon discovered that one was the hall manager, Mr. Strong, and the other was Mr. Ferguson's friend, Mr. Drake. They stopped at the very car in which she was trying desperately to hide herself. Mr. Drake com- menced rummaging about at the rear for something which was evidently hidden there. Then suddenly he held a flask up to view, and both men laughed. "Um — Best I've tasted in years," said Mr. Strong, as he removed the bottle from his lips. "No doubt. And what's more, it's apt to be some time before you taste its like again." "I shouldn't wonder," replied Mr. Strong. "But how about the matter we were discussing; I tell you frankly, I don't like the looks of it, and neither does her father, though he seems unable to put a stop to the affair. Now if Mr. Ferguson were only serious, or if she wasn't so innocent as to take too much for granted, things would be different, but as it is — , well, it's a shame, a — dirty shame, I call it." "You're right," replied Drake. "Confound it, man, isn't there something you can do to stop it? You're his friend. Can't you make him realize that this Garland girl is too good to be trampled on?" "No. You see its just like a poker game with him and no one likes to be told how to play his hand. Leave him alone and things will go better than if you try to interfere. I know that from experi- ence." "What sort of a fellow is he anyway?" demanded Mr. Strong. "Man to man, he isn't so bad. In fact he is a pretty good sort. Certainly there are many worse. But when it comes to women, it's different. He has a great weakness for pretty faces, not the kind that 456 IMPROVEMENT ERA leads to love, for he is incapable of loving anyone except himself, but simply a weakness that is satisfied as soon as he has completely con- quered his victim. His task is generally not so difficult either, since for some reason, they 'fall' for him as readily as he does for them, but inevitably the harder they fight, the harder they fall. For instance, a year or so ago he became enamored of a most charming girl out in Wyoming, and while she considered him a little god on wheels, her Christian training was such that she held him off until their love should be sanctified by marriage. Well, what did he do but inveigle her into a mock ceremony, a deception she did not discover until some months later. How he ever escaped the jail for that affair is more than I know, unless, as he says, he chose the proper atmosphere for exploiting the truth; namely, a long way from home and friends." "The — skunk!" exclaimed Mr. Strong. "I do wish something could be done." "Well, I'm telling you that if she is the innocent, credulous type you describe her to be, one who knows too much to be told anything by others, as is generally the case, there is nothing that can be done, except to predict what will happen. My prediction is that this Garland girl is already like 'bread cast upon the water' which may return after many days, but not before being watersoaked and badly damaged." Renae heard no more. A feeling of horror and nausea swept over her. Not for anything would she run the chance of being alone with Mr. Ferguson again. As soon as the coast was clear, she climbed out and ran hastily back to the hall. She rechecked her wraps hoping to find a hiding place where she could rest undisturbed until time to go home. But fate was against her for as she entered, the orchestra struck up the home waltz, a signal for everyone either to dance or leave. Thus the crowd at the entrance, which she had thought to use as a protecting screen, suddenly melted away, leaving her completely exposed to the vigilant Mr. Ferguson who was just going out to join her. "You're just in time. How fortunate — " he began as he ap- proached smiling blandly, his eyes feasting upon her in a manner which, now that she understood, fairly made her flesh crawl. What should she do? She had the sensation of being sucked down into a seething whirlpool and, like a drowning person clutching at a straw, she reached out and took someone by the arm, stammering as she did so: "I — I beg your pardon, Mr. — Mr. Ferguson, I have the home waltz with this gentleman." Then everything seemed to swim before her eyes. She realized nothing except that she was being borne away from some terrible danger by strong, protecting arms. In this state of coma, she nearly circled the hall before commencing to wonder who her partner was and what he must be thinking of her, after the way she had drafted him into service. There was something familiarly reassuring in the way he danced. Who could he be? Of course she would have to find out. She couldn't continue staring vacantly at his vest buttons. Tilt- ing her head slightly, she glanced up timidly through the corners of AN AWAKENING 457 her eyes. Why it was Joe — dear old faithful Joe, and he was smiling down at her so quizzically that she simply had to say something! "Surprised?" she queried, hardly knowing what she said. "Yes — sure," he replied. "But such surprisin' don't hurt me any, I guess." She knew that he was expecting her to explain, but how was she to do it? Casting frantically about for a plausible reason, she sud- denly struck anchor. "Why — why, you see I thought I would get even with you for not asking me to dance tonight." The tenseness of the situation relaxed as both laughed over the droll explanation; she, because of the relief she felt; he, because of pure happiness. Delta, Utah Smile Of course you have your troubles. Many things bother you; little unpleasant things that deepen the crease between your brows and give a dissatisfied expression to your eyes. But smile! There are rough spots in every road; spots that hurt your feet, jar your spine and try your disposition. But smile! Don't imagine you are the only over- burdened mortal on the globe. Don't think that your neighbor has all the sunshine in his yard; you don't know the dark corner between his house and garage where slugs and cut-worms wreck his choicest shrubs. He may be as much discouraged as you are, but mayhap he has learned the secret of a smile. So smile, and whatever you do, don't wrap the mantle of sym- pathy around yourself; that is the rankest kind of pity. Don't count the things you have missed; count the ones you have found. Every human has his downs as well as his ups. Smile, don't be susceptible to the sting of the "gloom bug." San Diego, California DOROTHY C. RETSLOFF God's Handiwork I love to see His firmaments I love to see His dark storm clouds Of moving worlds in space; And watch the lightnings play; I love to know He made them so — I love to hear His voice, so loud, Assigned to each its place. In thunders roll away. I love to note His sure control Of wind and wave at sea; I love to know He loves us so He died for you and me. Park City, Utah H. GRAEHL