her.
“Believe what, Connie?” Doris clutched at Constance’s wrist until it hurt her.
“Why, believe God. Oh, I don’t know, Dorrie, I don’t know just how they say it. But I’m sure there’s a way and you needn’t be afraid.”
“Oh, Con, if you could just find someone who knows the way before it is too late! Oh, isn’t there someone,
someone
? Not the one that talked about sweetness and light, nor the one who preached about finding God in nature, nor the one who said that about the greatest sin being the sin against your own personality. I want somebody real, Connie. Don’t you know anybody, not anybody who is sure about what comes after we die? Listen, Connie, I’ve been an awful sinner! I never thought so before, but now I know it! I’ve been thinking of all the things I’ve done—Oh, Connie, I can’t die this way! Can’t you find someone? Isn’t there anybody in the whole world that knows about God?”
“Yes!” said Constance, suddenly springing to her feet. “I know one. I’ll try to get him. You lie still, Doris, and just be as quiet as you can. I’ll get him somehow or make him tell me what to tell you.”
“I will, Connie, but hurry! Oh, hurry!”
Constance, breathless, flew down the hall to the telephone and asked for Long Distance. Her heart was beating wildly. Never in any stress of her own life had she felt so helpless, so utterly frightened, so frantic. She closed her eyes and tried to think what she should say to the operator. He was Mr. G. Seagrave, and he was in the office of Howarth, Well and Company. She tried to locate the exact block in which that firm had its offices, and when the operator answered she was ready with her directions.
It seemed an incredible thing that she should so soon hear his voice answering. That he should be there at the end of the wire without delay. It thrilled her strangely across all that distance.
“This is Graham Seagrave speaking!”
Graham, so that was what the
G
stood for, said her subconscious mind as she caught her breath and tried to speak naturally.
“This is Constance Courtland, Mr. Seagrave.” Her voice was shaking and sounded unnatural to herself. “This is an SOS for help.”
“Yes?” he said with an eagerness in his tone that thrilled her again with deep relief. His voice was just as she remembered it, dependable, strong, ready to help as she had known it would be. That was why she had dared to call him.
“How can I help?”
“My roommate has had a terrible accident. She has but a very few hours to live, though she may go at any minute, the doctor says. She is horribly afraid to die. She is begging me to tell her what to do, and I don’t know what to say to her. I’ve tried, but I don’t understand it myself”—her voice broke with a quick sob. “
Could
you possibly come? I don’t know anybody else to ask.”
“Of course I’ll come. Where are you?”
“At college.” She gave brief directions how to find her.
“I’ll start at once. I’ll get there as soon as I can, but—meantime—surely there must be some Christian nearer who can help you at once, at least till I get there?”
“I don’t know one who talks about it the way you do. They don’t any of them
believe
what you do, and I don’t know how to quiet her. She is frantic.”
“Have you a pencil there?”
“Yes.”
“Then write this down: ‘John 3:16.’ Those are Jesus’ own words. Read them to her, and tell her to trust herself to His promise. Good-bye, I’m coming, and I’m praying.”
Constance turned from the telephone and found that her face was wet with tears. She brushed them away as she hurried down the hall looking at the bit of paper she held in her hand. This would be a Bible reference. She must find a Bible somewhere. The library would be the place to go.
But to her annoyance she found when she reached there that the librarian was not there. No one was there but the old janitor sweeping the front hall. Search as she
“Believe what, Connie?” Doris clutched at Constance’s wrist until it hurt her.
“Why, believe God. Oh, I don’t know, Dorrie, I don’t know just how they say it. But I’m sure there’s a way and you needn’t be afraid.”
“Oh, Con, if you could just find someone who knows the way before it is too late! Oh, isn’t there someone,
someone
? Not the one that talked about sweetness and light, nor the one who preached about finding God in nature, nor the one who said that about the greatest sin being the sin against your own personality. I want somebody real, Connie. Don’t you know anybody, not anybody who is sure about what comes after we die? Listen, Connie, I’ve been an awful sinner! I never thought so before, but now I know it! I’ve been thinking of all the things I’ve done—Oh, Connie, I can’t die this way! Can’t you find someone? Isn’t there anybody in the whole world that knows about God?”
“Yes!” said Constance, suddenly springing to her feet. “I know one. I’ll try to get him. You lie still, Doris, and just be as quiet as you can. I’ll get him somehow or make him tell me what to tell you.”
“I will, Connie, but hurry! Oh, hurry!”
Constance, breathless, flew down the hall to the telephone and asked for Long Distance. Her heart was beating wildly. Never in any stress of her own life had she felt so helpless, so utterly frightened, so frantic. She closed her eyes and tried to think what she should say to the operator. He was Mr. G. Seagrave, and he was in the office of Howarth, Well and Company. She tried to locate the exact block in which that firm had its offices, and when the operator answered she was ready with her directions.
It seemed an incredible thing that she should so soon hear his voice answering. That he should be there at the end of the wire without delay. It thrilled her strangely across all that distance.
“This is Graham Seagrave speaking!”
Graham, so that was what the
G
stood for, said her subconscious mind as she caught her breath and tried to speak naturally.
“This is Constance Courtland, Mr. Seagrave.” Her voice was shaking and sounded unnatural to herself. “This is an SOS for help.”
“Yes?” he said with an eagerness in his tone that thrilled her again with deep relief. His voice was just as she remembered it, dependable, strong, ready to help as she had known it would be. That was why she had dared to call him.
“How can I help?”
“My roommate has had a terrible accident. She has but a very few hours to live, though she may go at any minute, the doctor says. She is horribly afraid to die. She is begging me to tell her what to do, and I don’t know what to say to her. I’ve tried, but I don’t understand it myself”—her voice broke with a quick sob. “
Could
you possibly come? I don’t know anybody else to ask.”
“Of course I’ll come. Where are you?”
“At college.” She gave brief directions how to find her.
“I’ll start at once. I’ll get there as soon as I can, but—meantime—surely there must be some Christian nearer who can help you at once, at least till I get there?”
“I don’t know one who talks about it the way you do. They don’t any of them
believe
what you do, and I don’t know how to quiet her. She is frantic.”
“Have you a pencil there?”
“Yes.”
“Then write this down: ‘John 3:16.’ Those are Jesus’ own words. Read them to her, and tell her to trust herself to His promise. Good-bye, I’m coming, and I’m praying.”
Constance turned from the telephone and found that her face was wet with tears. She brushed them away as she hurried down the hall looking at the bit of paper she held in her hand. This would be a Bible reference. She must find a Bible somewhere. The library would be the place to go.
But to her annoyance she found when she reached there that the librarian was not there. No one was there but the old janitor sweeping the front hall. Search as she
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