0,49 €
Mehr erfahren.
- Herausgeber: Booksell-Verlag
- Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
- Sprache: Englisch
In "The Chance of a Lifetime," Grace Livingston Hill weaves a captivating narrative that explores themes of love, faith, and the transformative power of choice. Set against the backdrop of early 20th-century America, the novel features Hill's signature writing style that combines melodrama with poignant character development. The protagonist, richly drawn with relatable flaws, embarks on a journey that encapsulates the societal expectations of women during this era while also hinting at a burgeoning sense of independence and personal agency. Hill's work fits within the genre of Christian romance, serving not only as entertainment but also as a moral exploration of self-discovery and spiritual awakening. Grace Livingston Hill, often hailed as the pioneer of inspirational fiction, drew from her own experiences and the religious values of her upbringing to craft stories that resonate with readers seeking hope and redemption. Living through both World Wars and the tumult of early 20th-century life, Hill's narrative reflects her belief in the power of divine providence and the importance of making choices that align with one's values and faith. This compelling novel is highly recommended for readers seeking an uplifting and insightful tale that balances romance with moral dilemmas. "The Chance of a Lifetime" not only entertains but also inspires reflection on one'Äôs own choices, making it a relevant read for anyone in search of meaning and guidance amid life's challenges.
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023
Ähnliche
The Chance of a Lifetime
Table of Contents
Introduction
A single, unexpected opportunity can reveal who we are and what we truly value. The Chance of a Lifetime, by Grace Livingston Hill, invites readers into that crucible where desire and duty meet. Known for inspirational romances that foreground faith and ethical choice, Hill crafts stories in which ordinary circumstances become decisive crossroads. This novel continues that tradition, presenting a life-altering offer that promises advancement yet demands discernment. Without relying on sensational twists, Hill builds tension from inward conflict and the pull of conscience, guiding readers toward questions of purpose, integrity, and the quiet courage required to choose a better way.
Grace Livingston Hill was a prolific American author whose works shaped and popularized early-to-mid twentieth-century inspirational romance. The Chance of a Lifetime belongs to that tradition, blending elements of domestic fiction, moral reflection, and gentle courtship. While the book reflects the social and spiritual sensibilities of its era, it aims for timeless resonance through its focus on character and choice. Readers will find a narrative grounded in everyday settings and relationships, presented in accessible prose. The publication context aligns with Hill’s broader body of work, which reached a wide audience seeking uplifting stories emphasizing hope, redemption, and the sustaining presence of faith.
At its core, the novel turns on a moment when the protagonist encounters an offer that appears to open every door. The promise of change—social, professional, or personal—raises immediate questions: What must be compromised to seize it, and what is gained by restraint? From this premise, Hill develops a story that moves through family expectations, community perception, and the quiet rooms where private decisions are made. The pace is measured rather than hurried, allowing motives to surface and consequences to become clear. Readers can expect a contemplative journey in which romance grows alongside moral awakening and the recognition of a deeper, guiding providence.
Hill’s voice is steady, earnest, and attentive to the small details of daily life that reveal character. The mood favors comfort and clarity over cynicism, yet the narrative does not avoid tension; it finds drama in temptation, misunderstanding, and the struggle to act on conviction. Scenes are shaped by practical concerns—work, reputation, home—and by the inner dialogue that measures immediate gain against lasting good. The effect is one of gradual illumination: as choices are tested, a path emerges that is both emotionally satisfying and ethically coherent. Readers who appreciate a sincere tone and unhurried moral inquiry will feel at home here.
Thematically, The Chance of a Lifetime explores integrity, trust, and the formative power of everyday decisions. It asks whether true opportunity is defined by status and security or by alignment with conscience and calling. The novel also contemplates the nature of love—romantic and familial—as a context in which character is refined and sustained. Providence threads through the narrative not as spectacle but as quiet assurance that the right next step is worth taking, even when costly. In presenting choices that shape identity, the book invites readers to consider where they locate meaning and how faith might steady the heart when options glitter and compete.
Read within its historical moment, the novel reflects customs and expectations often associated with its period, including manners of courtship, community reputation, and the value placed on restraint. These conventions frame the dilemmas without diminishing their relevance. Hill’s approach offers a snapshot of a cultural landscape that prizes responsibility, service, and moral clarity, yet it leaves room for personal renewal and second chances. Contemporary readers may encounter archaic assumptions alongside enduring insights, but the narrative’s moral questions remain recognizable. The book thus serves both as a period piece and as a vehicle for reflection on how ethics and affection can meaningfully inform life choices.
For readers today, The Chance of a Lifetime offers a restorative experience: a clean romance shaped by purpose, compassion, and the conviction that right action yields deep peace. It resonates with anyone weighing career moves, relational commitments, or the allure of quick success against deeper loyalties. Hill’s emphasis on discernment over impulse encourages careful, hopeful living. Entering this story is less like chasing a twist than like watching a moral compass swing steadily toward true north. The invitation is simple and compelling: consider what a real opportunity looks like—and how, by choosing well, an ordinary life can become quietly extraordinary.
Synopsis
Set in an early twentieth-century milieu of bustling cities and quiet country estates, The Chance of a Lifetime follows a capable young woman who has been holding her world together with determination and faith. When an unexpected opportunity arises to accept a temporary position in a prestigious household, she recognizes a door opening beyond her modest routine. The offer promises stability and a broader horizon, yet its terms are opaque and its patrons complex. With a mixture of gratitude and caution, she accepts, resolving to keep her integrity intact as she steps into refined surroundings that test both her poise and her convictions.
Upon arrival, she discovers a household layered with expectations, subtle alliances, and practiced charm. The hostess prizes decorum; certain guests perform their brilliance for the room; servants move with disciplined discretion. The young woman’s role—part companion, part assistant—demands tact, observation, and unwavering honesty. She notes contrasts between outward polish and inward restlessness, and she quietly orders her days around work, prayer, and careful kindness. Early tasks reveal small ethical crossroads: what to overlook, what to correct, and whom to trust. She senses that the invitation carries unspoken purposes, though she cannot yet discern whether they are benevolent, opportunistic, or both.
In this new sphere she meets an earnest young man connected to the household, marked by steadiness rather than spectacle. Their acquaintance grows through practical cooperation and shared values, not through staged entertainment. He hints at tensions beneath the estate’s serenity—questions about money, stewardship, and a recent change in family leadership. Polite rivalries surface in the drawing room and at weekend outings, where ambition and affection mingle. The young woman listens more than she speaks, learning the rhythms of the place while holding to a straightforward ethic. She understands that advancement here will require not merely competence but discernment about motives.
A series of social engagements introduces sharper tests. She is urged to overlook questionable dealings, to soften inconvenient truths, or to lend her presence to plans that trouble her conscience. Remaining courteous yet firm, she refuses to compromise. Her stance earns quiet respect from some and guarded displeasure from others. Small acts—organizing charitable efforts, helping a staff member in distress, encouraging a discouraged guest—build trust in corners of the house where it matters most. The difference between appearances and realities grows clearer, and she recognizes that the quality of her choices, unseen by most, may shape the course of her opportunity.
Midway through her tenure, a new prospect emerges that seems to fulfill the promise of her invitation: a path to lasting position, education, or influence. Yet acceptance appears to depend on accommodating the designs of a few powerful voices. At the same time, disquieting details accumulate—late-night conferences, a missing document, a stranger lingering beyond the gate. She pieces together patterns without rushing to judgment and confides her concerns only to those who have earned her confidence. The widening scope of her responsibilities places her at the junction of private loyalties and public consequences, where a misstep could cost dearly.
Events converge in a sudden crisis that forces hidden loyalties into daylight. A mishap or attempted wrongdoing jolts the household from its rituals, and the young woman finds herself with knowledge that could be used to protect herself or to shield the vulnerable. Choosing integrity, she acts promptly and discreetly, balancing truth with compassion. Her decision compels others to clarify their positions and sets in motion the necessary reckoning. Without dramatics, she becomes a stabilizing presence, applying practical skill and moral clarity while allowing proper authorities and family leaders to take their roles. The course of the household irrevocably shifts.
The aftermath brings scrutiny and division. Some accuse her of overstepping; others affirm that her candor prevented greater harm. Gossip trails the corridors, yet specific facts gradually separate fear from reality. The principled young man provides steady support without presumption, facilitating communication and encouraging fairness. As motives are examined, entwined threads of pride, jealousy, and mismanagement come into view, and a more truthful understanding of the past emerges. Through it all, the young woman refuses vindictiveness, keeping her focus on honest work and quiet service. The environment that once dazzled her now reveals its true character, both admirable and flawed.
With tensions eased and responsibilities clarified, attention turns to the future. The promising offer is laid before her again, now stripped of illusions and measured against what she has learned about herself and others. She must weigh security against sincerity, prestige against purpose, and sentiment against principle. Family considerations and long-standing obligations also call for attention. A path opens that honors both conscience and hope, though it may require relinquishing easier advantages. Relationships newly grounded in truth, including a deepening friendship, make the decision both more meaningful and more consequential. The turning point arrives without spectacle, shaped by quiet conviction.
The narrative closes on a note of durable hope rather than mere triumph. The “chance of a lifetime” proves to be less a single doorway than a sequence of choices steered by integrity, compassion, and faith. Outward success matters less than the character formed in testing. Hill’s story affirms that genuine opportunity aligns with service and trust in God, and that love emerges most firmly when built on honesty. Without detailing final outcomes, the book concludes with restored order, clearer responsibilities, and the promise of a future shaped not by circumstance alone, but by the steady practice of right living under watchful grace.
Historical Context
Grace Livingston Hill situates The Chance of a Lifetime within the interwar United States, in the milieu of small cities and expanding suburbs typical of the Northeast, likely Pennsylvania or New York. Internal markers—telephones, automobiles, office work, and commuter distances—place the story in the late 1920s to early 1930s. Domestic interiors, boardinghouses, and business districts form the social geography, where respectable middle-class ideals encounter modern uncertainties. The setting reflects a society moving from post–World War I optimism toward economic strain, with Prohibition shaping public morals and civic life. In this environment, choices about work, responsibility, and faith take on heightened stakes for ordinary Americans.
Women’s suffrage and the expansion of female employment provide crucial background. The Nineteenth Amendment, ratified on August 18, 1920, enfranchised women nationally, catalyzing greater civic presence and confidence. During the 1920s, women entered clerical and retail occupations in large numbers; by 1930 roughly one-quarter of the paid labor force was female, with stenography, bookkeeping, and secretarial work prominent in urban offices. Business colleges proliferated in cities like Philadelphia and New York. The novel’s working heroines, moral choices in the workplace, and themes of competence and integrity echo this transformation, depicting women leveraging education and diligence to secure opportunity and uphold family and community welfare.
The Great Depression, precipitated by the 1929 stock market crash, is the period’s defining event. After Black Tuesday (October 29, 1929), the Dow Jones Industrial Average fell from a September 1929 peak of 381 to 41 by July 1932. Between 1930 and early 1933, about 9,000 U.S. banks failed, wiping out savings and contracting credit. Unemployment rose to approximately 24.9% in 1933, with breadlines, soup kitchens, and foreclosures transforming daily life; industrial cities in Pennsylvania, Ohio, and New York saw acute layoffs. The Roosevelt administration’s New Deal began in 1933 with a national bank holiday (March 6–13), the Emergency Banking Act (March 9, 1933), and Glass–Steagall’s creation of the FDIC (June 16, 1933). Relief and jobs programs soon followed: the Civilian Conservation Corps (established March 31, 1933) and the Works Progress Administration (created May 6, 1935) employed millions, while the Federal Emergency Relief Administration (May 12, 1933) funded local aid. These measures did not end hardships immediately but stabilized households and communities. The Chance of a Lifetime mirrors this economic upheaval in its preoccupation with precarious employment, sudden reversals and openings, and the ethics of stewardship under scarcity. Characters’ scrupulous honesty, thrift, and willingness to help the vulnerable correspond to the home-based survival strategies that sustained many families—taking in boarders, sharing meals, or pursuing modest entrepreneurial ventures. The narrative’s emphasis on Providence and moral discernment speaks to a generation confronting risk and uncertainty, when a job offer, timely generosity, or principled refusal could alter a life’s course. In dramatizing the fragile boundary between security and want, the book channels the Depression-era American conviction that private character and communal solidarity could coexist with, and sometimes compensate for, larger economic forces.
Prohibition shaped social conduct and public order throughout the novel’s likely timeframe. The Eighteenth Amendment was ratified in 1919, and the Volstead Act took effect on January 17, 1920; illicit liquor traffic and speakeasies proliferated despite enforcement. Notorious episodes, such as the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre (Chicago, February 14, 1929) and Al Capone’s 1931 conviction for tax evasion, illustrated the entanglement of crime and corrupted local authority. Hill’s moral universe—warning against compromised associations and valorizing lawful, temperate living—reflects the era’s debates over personal liberty, community standards, and the costs of evasion, portraying sobriety and rectitude as practical safeguards amid social turbulence.
Urbanization and the mobility revolution frame the book’s spatial logic. The 1920 U.S. Census recorded, for the first time, a majority urban population. Automobile registrations rose from roughly 8 million in 1920 to over 23 million by 1930; the U.S. Numbered Highway System was formalized in 1926, while commuter rail sustained suburban corridors like Philadelphia’s Main Line. Offices, department stores, and streetcar suburbs created new rhythms of work and courtship. Hill’s scenes of commuting, quick trips across town, and timely arrivals depend on this infrastructure. Mobility enables the titular “chance”—access to jobs, timely rescues, and widened social networks—while also exposing characters to tempting shortcuts and ethical tests.
Religious currents—the Fundamentalist–Modernist controversy—formed a charged backdrop in the 1920s. The Scopes “Monkey Trial” (Dayton, Tennessee, July 1925) pitted William Jennings Bryan against Clarence Darrow over teaching evolution, symbolizing broader clashes within Protestantism about authority, scripture, and modern culture. Grace Livingston Hill, daughter of a Presbyterian minister, consistently emphasized personal conversion, prayer, and biblical ethics. The novel’s insistence on conscience, church community, and spiritual discernment partakes of this environment: it affirms practical faith as a guide to action in business and family life, offering a lay theology of integrity at a moment when many Americans sought moral anchors amid rapid change.
Social welfare transitioned from private charity to public relief across these years. Before 1933, aid came largely from churches, the Salvation Army (U.S. work launched in 1880), and community chests (pioneered in Cleveland in 1913, widely adopted in the 1920s). The American Red Cross organized local relief during crises. With the New Deal, federal programs—the Federal Emergency Relief Administration (1933), Civilian Conservation Corps (1933), and later the Social Security Act (1935)—augmented thin local safety nets. Hill’s plotlines of neighborly assistance, church benevolence, and dignified help for the distressed echo the earlier model, while the depiction of strained households shows why broader, coordinated relief became politically inevitable.
As social and political critique, The Chance of a Lifetime exposes the moral costs of economic insecurity, the vulnerabilities of women navigating male-dominated workplaces, and the corrosive effects of lawlessness normalized under Prohibition. It argues for ethical capitalism grounded in responsibility, rejecting predatory advantage and corner-cutting in favor of honest labor and mutual aid. Class divisions appear not as immutable hierarchies but as tests of stewardship and humility, indicting indifference among the comfortable. The work implicitly challenges civic failures that left relief to overstretched charities, while affirming a civic-religious ideal: a community where conscience, law, and compassion correct market excesses and protect the vulnerable.
The Chance of a Lifetime
CHAPTER I
The morning Alan MacFarland’s father broke his leg, Alan got a special delivery letter from his former high school professor, inviting him to accompany him as a sort of assistant, at a small salary, on an archaeological expedition to Egypt[1] that was to sail from New York in three days.
“I would have given you more notice if it had been possible,” wrote Professor Hodge, “but the vacancy only just occurred through the resignation of a young man who was taken seriously ill. I have recommended you, and I hope you will be able to accept. It will be the chance of your lifetime[2][1q]. The salary is not large nor the position notable, but the experience will be great. I am sure you will enjoy it. You are young, of course, but I have great belief in your character and ability, and have told our leader that I am sure you will make good. It will be necessary for you to write at once if you wish to hold the job, as there are other eager applicants; but you have precedence.”
There followed a list of necessities that Alan must bring with him, and directions to the place of meeting with the rest of the expedition.
Alan was sitting at his father’s desk in the Rockland Hardware store reading this letter. He had just come from the house, at his father’s request, to open the mail and answer one or two important letters that were expected. This letter of his own had been brought to the store by mistake instead of being delivered at the house, and therefore it happened that the great temptation of his young life was presented to him all alone, away from the watchful, loving eyes of his mother or his father.
Alan’s first reaction was wonder and awe that he, Alan MacFarland, just a graduate of the Rockland High School, had been chosen for such a marvelous honor, a place in the great expedition to Egypt! There was nothing in the whole world of honors that Alan could think of that he would more desire to do. He had always been interested in archaeology, and his soul throbbed with eagerness. To go in company with Professor Hodge, who had given him his first interest in ancient things, seemed the height of bliss. His eyes shone as he read, and his breath came in quick gasps of wonder. He looked up at the last word of the letter with a dazed expression and stared about him, as if to make sure that he was awake and in the land of the living, not dreaming or anything.
A chance like that to come to him! A smile broke over his face as he sat with the letter still in his hand and gazed through the iron grating that surrounded the cash desk. Across the store were shelves filled with neat boxes, green and brown and red, all labeled; gimlets and screwdrivers and chisels in orderly rows, but he saw instead a wide desert under a hot orient sky, and toilers in the sand, bringing forth treasures of the ancients. He saw himself with a grimy, happy face, a part of the great expedition, exploring tombs and pyramids and cities of another age.
Suddenly the immediate environment snapped on his consciousness; bright gleaming tools of steel and iron—saws and hammers and nails and plows; and the desert faded. They fairly clamored at him for attention like so many helpless humans.
“What are you going to do about us?” they asked. “Your father is helpless, and we are your responsibility.”
Alan’s smile suddenly faded even as the desert had done.
“But this is the chance of my lifetime!” he cried out indignantly to himself. “Surely Father would want me to accept. Surely he would not stand in my way.”
“Yes, but are you willing to put it up to him?” winked an honest oatmeal boiler, aghast. “You know what your father told you this morning! You know how touched you were when he told you that he could bear the pain and the being laid aside, since he knew you were free to take over the store and that he could trust you to run it as well as he would have done himself.”
“But there is Uncle Ned,” cried out Alan’s eager youth. “He has nothing in life to do now since he has retired, and surely he could look after things for a while till Dad is on deck again!”
Then conscience spoke.
“You know what your father said this very morning about Uncle Ned. You know he told you that Uncle Ned let everything run down, and got the books all mixed up those six weeks he had charge while your father went to California last year. And you know your father said there was a crisis just now in his affairs and that if he couldn’t tide things over for the next six weeks he would lose all he gained in his lifetime.”
Alan’s hand make a quick nervous movement in laying down the letter, and a heavy paperweight in the form of a small steam engine, a souvenir of the last dinner of the United Hardware Dealers the elder MacFarland had attended, fell with a clatter to the floor.
Alan stooped and picked it up, and it seemed as he did so that all the blood in his body rushed in one anguish flood to his face, and throbbed in his neck and head. Was this appalling thing true, that he was going to even consider whether or not it was right to accept this wonderful offer? Surely, surely, his father would not permit him to make such a sacrifice!
Then his conscience held up before him the picture of his father as he had seen him just a few minutes before, his face white with pain, his lips set in a strong endurance, his voice weak from shock; and again he heard the trembling sentences from those strong lips that had never acknowledged failure before:
“There’s a note to be met, son, the first of next week. The man is needing money badly and will foreclose if it isn’t paid. I thought I had it all fixed up, but I got his letter last night, and I reckon that’s what I was thinking about when I crossed the street in front of that car. You see, the worst of it is he has a purchaser ready to take over the store and give him cash at once on foreclosure. I suspect it’s that evil-eyed Rawley that’s been hanging around asking questions the last three weeks, and there’s nothing for it but to raise the money somehow— There are those city lots we’ve been saving for Mother—They’ll have to go, unless you can get Judge Whiteley to fix up another mortgage somehow to tide us over—”
The voice had failed with a new wave of pain, and Alan’s mother had signaled him in alarm.
“That’s all right, Dad,” Alan’s strong young voice had rung out with assurance. “I’ll fix that up okay. You don’t need to worry a minute! And of course I can run the store. You needn’t think anything is going wrong just because you are taking a few days’ rest.”
That was how he had cheered his father, one short hour before, and walked down the street with his shoulders back and a proud feeling of responsibility upon him to take over the business and make it succeed, pull it out of a hole as it were. How his heart had responded to his father’s appeal.
And here he was considering dropping the whole thing, shedding the whole responsibility like a garment that could be discarded at will, and running off to play at digging up gold vases in some dead king’s tomb! Calling it the chance of a lifetime and crying out for an opportunity to fulfill his dreams and ambitions, while his father lay in pain and discouragement and saw his own life struggles and ambitions end in utter failure, too late to mend.
Well, he couldn’t do that, of course. He couldn’t lead his own life at the expense of all Dad had done, not now, just as things were nearing a fulfillment of his dreams. And in a sense Dad was doing it all for his sake and Mother’s. Who was he to presume to live his own life at the expense of his parents’? And why should his life be any more important in the universe, and in the eyes of God, than his father’s life and fortunes were?
He was sitting up now, with the paperweight in one hand and the letter in the other, staring at the four walls of the hardware store that had always seemed so important and so friendly to him. These questions were being shouted at him by a bright chisel that caught the light of the sun through the window, by a keg of gleaming wire nails that stood behind the counter within sight at his right hand, by a bundle of ax handles that bunched together over in the corner next to a great burlap bag of grass seed. All these inanimate creatures suddenly seemed to come alive and accuse him. Even a box of bright little seed packets left over from the spring seemed to reproach him. And then he seemed suddenly to have to defend himself to them all; he, the son of the house, who was now in command and expected to bring order out of the confusion and trouble. What made any of them think he was going to desert, his glance seemed to say, as his upper lip stiffened and his chin lifted, just the slightest, perceptible bit?
Alan laid down the paperweight and grasping his father’s pencil began to write on the back of Professor Hodge’s envelope.
Deeply grateful for your thought of me. Would like above all things to go, but impossible. Dad run over by automobile this morning. Fractured leg and other injuries. May be some time in recovering. Meantime, business responsibility on me. Great regrets and many thanks. Suggest Bob Lincoln. Here’s wishing,
Alan.
He counted the words carefully, and then reached out his hand for the telephone, but instead of calling Western Union as he had intended, he hesitated, with his fingers on the receiver, looked about thoughtfully, firmly, as though the matter was settled of course, but stuffed the scribbled envelope down in his pocket and called his home.
“How’s Dad, Mother? The doctor been there? What does he say? What? Ohhh–h! He does? Did you say he thinks it’s a difficult fracture? He said Dad might be a long time in bed? What’s the word? Complications? Oh! Worry? Why no, of course not! There’s nothing whatever to worry about. Tell Dad I’m at the helm and the ship is sailing fine. I’ll get all this mess straightened out in great shape, don’t you be afraid. Just tell him so! Tell him— Tell him I’m having—the time of my life! Why—tell him—I’m having”—he caught his breath as if a pain had shot through him and ended in a bright voice—”Tell him I’m having the chance of a lifetime. See? And don’t you worry, little Mother! Dad’ll pull through beautifully. This is just his chance to rest. He’s worked hard for years. It’s my turn to take the helm!”
He hung up the receiver sharply and shut his lips in a fine, firm line, his eyes taking on a look he wore when he had to break the enemy’s luck on the football field, or win in a race, or climb a ladder to rescue someone in a village fire.
Then with a defiant glance around at the inanimate objects that had accused him, he seized the telephone again and called for Western Union, firmly giving his message word for word in a clear, crisp voice, feeling in his heart that he had cut his own throat but was glad he had. Then he set to work in a mature, businesslike way to open the morning mail. This sickly feeling at his stomach was not to be noticed any more than if he had got knocked out playing baseball. He had this job to do and he was going to do it. And surely he was no worse off than before he got that letter from Professor Hodge. He ought to be glad the professor thought him worthy to go on such an expedition. It maybe wasn’t the only chance in the world, even if good old Hodge had called it “the chance of a lifetime.” Well, if it was, this store was the chance of a lifetime, too. He might never have another opportunity to help Dad, and begin to repay all he had done for him. Good old Dad!
Something misty got into Alan’s eyes as he opened the next envelope, and he cleared his throat and brushed his hand across his forehead. Then suddenly he forgot Egypt and Hodge, and the expedition and the honor, and his loss and everything. For here in this letter was a challenge greater than any buried cities could give. It was even worse than Dad had hinted. The man who held the mortgage had come out in the open with sneers and threats, couched in language that was so sure of winning that it added insult to injury. What! Let that man insult his father? Not if he knew himself! If he couldn’t do anything else, he would thrash him. But he knew, good and well, he was going to do something else. He’d get that money somewhere and put Dad on the top, if he had to sell his own skin to do it. Alan’s lips shut, thin and hard, and his eyes took on their steely look. The desert faded, and honors held less significance. Here was another matter that called for all his nerve and powers. Other fellows could go to Egypt and do whatever was necessary to be done to unearth the secrets of the ages. But he, Alan, was the only one who could put his dad right with the world again.
All day he worked frantically, not taking time to go home for lunch, holding long telephone conversations, and writing letters. Interviewing his father’s lawyer and getting in touch with the president of the bank, making an appointment with a real estate agent in the city for the next day, writing letters to two or three powerful friends of his father’s whom he could not reach over the wires, sending telegrams.
It was wonderful, the thrill that came to him as he realized his own responsibility and the necessity of good judgment. If he only had someone to consult. Someone closer than just bank presidents. Of course, there was Keith Washburn—and Sherrill. Sherrill had amazing good sense for a girl. But of course he could not tell either of them, good friends though they were, about his father’s business. He must weather it alone. If he only could ask Dad a question or two. But his mother’s various messages, reporting the state of the beloved invalid, made it very plain that Dad ought not to be bothered with a thing for many a day yet.
Alan went home late to dinner that night and tried to wear a cheerful face to cover his weariness. Now that his actual work was done, until morning he had time to think of his own disappointment, and it cut deep into his heart and brought out the tired lines on his face more than he dreamed. Maybe he might have gone after all if he only had not been so hasty. Perhaps his plans would have carried smoothly, and by tomorrow everything would have been straightened out and the business safe. Surely then there could have been found somebody who would have taken over the store for a while till Dad got well. But no! He must not even think of that! Mother must never suspect; Dad must never know what he had given up. Dad would have felt even worse than he did about it. Dad was ambitious for him. Dad would have wanted him to be connected with this great matter!
His father was under opiates and in the hands of a capable nurse from the city. Alan could only tiptoe silently up to the door of the sickroom and peer anxiously into the cool, dim shadows. That sleeping form with the closed eyes, the strange, unnatural breathing, how it stabbed his heart. Of course, he could not have gone off to a desert and left his father like that.
Perhaps it was his need of being reassured after he had visited his father that led his footsteps out across the lawn and down the next street to the Washburn house. His mother did not need him. He had tucked her into her bed for a nice nap, kissed her, patted her, and told her not to worry. He had a strange lost feeling, like the first time he went to kindergarten all alone. So he wandered to his friend’s house.
Sherrill was at the piano, playing, the lamplight falling from the tall shaded lamp on her head and shoulders, bringing out the glint of gold in her hair, the delicate curve of her cheek and chin, the exquisite molding of her slim shoulders. He stood a moment and watched her wistfully. How sweet she was, and wise. What would she have advised him to do? Would she have said he must stay? But of course she would. He could not think of himself even asking her. He would not want her to think there had been any other thought in his mind for an instant, than to stick by his father. And yet— She was young! She was sane! Perhaps he had been over sentimental! He longed to hear her say it. Yet he could never ask her. The only person he could feel like asking was God, and he felt that he already knew what God would have him do.
She had stopped playing now and was wheeling a big chair up to the light. He drifted up to the open window and called her.
“Sherry, come out in the hammock and talk to me.”
She came at once, in her pretty white dress, standing in the doorway, poised for a second, while she called to her mother:
“Only out in the hammock, dearest. I shan’t be long. Alan is here!”
They sat down in the big, capacious swinging seat under the sweet-smelling pines and talked.
Sherrill had had letters from two of the girls. Priscilla Maybrick was in the Catskills having a wonderful time, and Willa Barrington had gone with an aunt to Atlantic City. They talked for a while about the comparative merits of seashore and mountains, and then a silence fell between them, a pleasant silence such as brings no embarrassment between good friends.
“Had a letter from old Hodge today,” said Alan nonchalantly, as if it were a matter of small moment. Somehow he had to let it out to someone, and Sherrill Washburn was safe and sane.
“You did!” said Sherrill interestedly. “What did he have to say? Is he still in that suburb of New York? Keith heard he had resigned.”
“Why no, he isn’t there,” Alan said. “He did resign. Hadn’t you heard? He’s a high mucky-muck in an expedition to Egypt. Archaeological, you know. Digging up some of Tut’s relatives and things like that.”
“You don’t mean it! Really! Isn’t that just wonderful? Did he say when they start?”
“Friday,” said Alan grimly. And then in a tone as if he were reporting an invitation to a pink tea, he said, quite offhandedly, “He asked me to go along.”
“Oh, Alan!” said Sherrill, clapping her hands in ecstasy and looking at him with admiration.
“Yes,” said the boy, “gave me all the dope and everything to meet him in New York, day after tomorrow.”
“Day after tomorrow!” The girl gave him a quick look, and sympathy broke into her voice.
“Oh, Alan! Then you can’t go! Of course. But isn’t that hard! You wouldn’t want to leave your father just now. Does he know about it?”
“No, and I don’t intend he shall!” said Alan, and there was a ring of purpose in his voice. “Please don’t say anything to Mother either, Sherry. It would just worry her, and she’s got enough to be anxious over now.”
“But wouldn’t they both perhaps feel you ought to have told them? It’s such an important thing. Perhaps they could make other arrangements and let you go.”
“There isn’t a chance!” said Alan briskly, thinking of the hard work he had been doing all day. “Nobody else knows about Dad’s business the way I do, and I wouldn’t trust anybody to take things over. Besides, Dad may be worse hurt than we think. The doctor can’t tell everything just yet. Of course, I know it’s a chance of a lifetime, as old Hodge said, but it can’t be helped. The way just isn’t open, that’s all. I only mentioned it because I thought you’d like to know that Hodge had asked me. I guess it’s an honor. He must know a lot of other fellows better fitted than I am.”
“Of course it’s an honor,” said Sherrill eagerly, “a great honor! But I’m not a bit surprised. I don’t believe Professor Hodge knows another boy of your age that is as dependable as you. But as for being the chance of a lifetime, you can’t tell. Maybe staying at home is the chance of yours. Things we want are not always the ones that are best for us. This may not be the chance of your lifetime at all.”
“Evidently not!” said Alan with a little laugh that hid a twinge of bitterness. “Well it was mighty nice of him to ask me anyway, and I’ve that to remember, like saving up candy you can’t eat along with your diploma and other trifling honors!”
“Have you answered him yet?” asked Sherrill thoughtfully.
“Sure! Wired him within an hour after the letter came.”
