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ESTHER TER RATE'S EXPERIMENT
S they passed through the great doors,
Esther’s heart gave a throb of exulta
tation. She knew that she was to see
her self-sacrifice, materialized. Mrs.
Webb gave her but a glimpse of the
grand hall and stairway, before she
pushed open the folding doors on the
right. It was a large room with many
windows, the ceiling overhead was of
A
stained oak, and the floor, visible around the edge of
the Persian rug, was of the same color, as well as
the massive table in the center of the room. All the
wall spaces possible were taken up by book cases,
filled from bottom to top with select and well bound
books. Luxurious leather chairs and jardinieres of
palms and ferns were arranged around at artistic
intervals-; but a large portrait over the mantel was
the central object of attraction.
The portrait was that of a fair young girl, gowned
in white silk, with a fluff of soft brown hair above
a white forehead, and lips of chiseled sweetness that
harmonized with the gray idealism of the eyes. The
expression of the face was charming in its exalta
tion. It suggested the old German poet’s words:
“On the heights there lies repose.”
Beneath the portrait hung a motto. The back
ground was white, and the text, written in letters
of gold, flashed its message into the eyes of every
visitor:
“Greater love hath no man than this,
That he lay down his life for his friend. ’ ’
The portrait was Esther Ferrall’s. The motto
beneath it suggested what she had done for Beulah
Land, and the cause of the Y. W. C. A.
Esther, as the significance of it all crept into her
consciousness, sank down in one of the leather
chairs, overpowered, covering her face with her
bands.
“How she loved me!” she said after a while,
brokenly; “my fairy god mother, and how unworthy
I feel of it all!”
Mrs. Webb walked to the window, with a blur of
tears in her fine eyes.
“If you will pardon me for saying so, Miss Fer
rall,” Mrs. Webb said, “I think the trouble is, that
you are overwhelmed by the greatness of your own
spirit being materialized before your eyes.
41 Come on! ” she exclaimed after a while, cheerily,
4 ‘ this is only the beginning of the dream. You must
not wake up, my beautiful princess, until you have
seen your own suite of rooms. I believe Dan Hallam
furnished them according to the dictates of his own
taste, although he declared he went by Aunt Mar
garet ’s instructions. ’ ’
The sitting room adjoined the library. There were
davenports, upholstered in leather, a grand piano,
handsome* chairs and bric-a-brac, enough to take
away the air of stiffness from a rather large apart
ment.
Back of the sitting room were a long dining room
and a kitchen, both equipped with everything modern
and necessary. On the other side of the lower hall
were the offices of the various officials connected
with the Y. W. C. A.
As they entered the elevator to ascend to the sec
ond floor, Mrs. Webb said, regretfully:
4 4 Mr. Hallam left for Europe immediately after
the dedication. I don’t think he understood why
you did not accept his invitation to the exercises.”
“I never received it,” Esther explained; 44 his let
ter must have been in the lost mail bag.”
4 4 Well, he has been working for your approval
nearly two years,” Mrs. Webb said, with a sigh,
as they gained the second floor, 4 4 and it has been
rather rough on him to miss it all, after he had
planned such a glorious climax for you, at the
last.”
“You must mean introducing me to the au
dience,” Esther said, in a startled voice, 44 on dedi
cation day.”
By MRS. ODESSA S. PA YNE: Author of "Psyche,” "The Sacrifice, ” "Holv East End Was Redeemed.”
VHI.
The Golden Age for February 17, 1908.
44 Yes; why not?”
“I am glad I missed that ordeal,” the girl ex
claimed, with emphasis, 4 4 but I am exceedingly sorry
not to have had the opportunity of giving him my
personal appreciation and thanks.”
Mrs. Webb walked to one end of the front hall,
and pushed back one-half of a folding door. And
there before Esther’s eyes, though she did not know
it, was the duplicate of Dan Hallam’s library, ex
cept the walls were tinted green. There were the
book cases, the bay window full of ferns, a dainty
desk of mahogany wood, and a rug that suggested
the rushes by the river, so deep its color, so soft its
sway under foot. Over the mantel was the pic
ture of the Springtime, which had been copied for
Dan Hallam, at what cost only he and the artist
knew.
44 0 h, how lovely!” Esther said, softly, and then,
as she still stood enraptured before the vision of
the gray mists, Mrs. Webb affirmed jubilantly:
4 4 This is the private sanctum of Miss Ferrall, of
Ferrall Hall. Back of it is a lovely bed room and
marble bath. The whole suite,” she went on, with
the intonation of one imparting delightful news,
44 is indeed for her exclusive use for life. If she
should, from choice or misfortune, need the shelter
of the Home, she is to be paid a salary of one hun
dred dollars per month out of the endowment fund. ’ ’
But Esther had come to the place where she could
no longer allow her emotions the upper hand —she
dared not.
44 1 f there are any more wonders, madam,” she
said in her natural voice, 44 to be seen in your en
chanted domains, pray proceed cautiously; for I
am only a country-bred girl.”
And then they both laughed; which was the best
thing they could have done to relieve the ten
sion, perhaps, under the circumstances. Mrs. June
Webb opened the door into Esther’s bed room.
44 You can see the girls’ rooms tomorrow; they
are all daintily and comfortably furnished. The
hospital is on the third floor; the chapel on tfie
fourth; the skating rink on the fifth, and our pic
ture gallery on the sixth; the free rooms furnished
to girls out of work on the seventh. So you can see
it will take you some time to explore the Ferrall
Annex.
44 Take off your hat, Esther,” she went on bright
ly, 4 4 and make yourself at home. I am sure that
you know that we have good reason to love you;
and are glad to have you here. ’ ’
44 How many girls,” Esther said, as she slowly re
moved her hat pins, 4 4 will this building accommo
date?”
44 One hundred,” Mrs. Webb answered. “I am
going down now, little girl, and I’ll send you up
the last Friday papers. But you must not get so
absorbed in the story of your own greatness that
you will not be ready for my six o’clock supper.
44 How like the old times that sounds,” Esther
said; 44 you are one of the Daughters of Martha,
Mrs. Webb; you never allow us to dream with Mary
—too long.”
Mrs. Webb smiled comprehendingly as she closed
the door, and left,the girl to her own devices.
Esther went to the sitting room and, going over to
the desk, picked up a sealed envelope, which bore
her address. In it was the key. She unlocked the
top of the writing desk and there was revealed a
dainty box- of stationery, with ink and pens. But
she was not satisfied until she had unlocked every
drawer. In the last one she found two cabinet-sized
photographs. She slipped the cover off the first one,
and discovered the face of her fairy god mother.
She looked at the familiar features long and earn
estly.
4 4 You have done all that love could do for me,
my dear fairy god mother. Protected me to the last
hour of my life! And also so many other girls! I
hope that I will play the game of life as grandly
until the end comes to me.”
Then she slipped the cover from the second photo-
graph, with fingers that trembled. Dan Hallam’s
face, grave and handsome, confronted her. After
she had looked at him a long moment, she turned
the photograph over, and saw something written on
the back:
44 To the Inspiration of the Ferrall Annex.
“D. B. H.”
Esther put the photograph back into the mahogany
desk and locked it. And then she walked over to
the telephone, which hung, like a haunting memory
of her ’phone romance, near one of the windows. She
looked up the address of Dan’s bank and asked
the cashier for Mr. Hallam’s foreign address. Then
she called up the telegraph office.
44 This is one time,” she said to herself, while she
waited, 4 4 that I am glad that I am a modern girl,
and live in an electric age. There are some misfor
tunes that brains and money can counterbalance.”
When Dan Hallam arrived in London he found
this cablegram:
4 4 Letter to the dedication mis-carried. I congrat
ulate warmly the builder of the Ferrall Annex, and
wish for him a pleasant trip and sate return to his
native land. 44 Esther Ferrall.”
44 Unique, as always,” Dan said to himself, with
a happy smile, and not signless as a stone, as I have
been tempted to believe since the day of dedica
tion. That girl certainly scores. I am half sorry
I packed my grip in such a hurry for a vacation over
here. ’ ’
“I sho am oneasy in my mind about Miss Oc
tavie,” Uncle Ezra said, as he rode along the
country road with his gray head bent in meditation.
44 An I jes nacherly wish Marse Lane wud come
home. She done got everything fix up She gwine
ter be the gran leddy, es she live or es she die. But
I feel pressed to give Marse David Grantland a
pint or two, when I hands ober all dese valable pa
pers ’cordin to Miss Octavie’s orders. Huh! I may
be a nigger, but I ’se been er watchin ’ ober my mis
tis ’ intrasts, eber since she was a leetle bit of a
gal.”
Uncle Ezra took off his stove pipe hat, and wiped
his brow with a red bandana handkerchief, ag
gressively. The September sunshine simmered soft
ly down on the white sandy road, while the warm
winds swayed the brilliantly tinted trees along the
way. Once, a rabbit scurried across the low grass,
and ran down the road in front of him. He
stopped his horse, and, placing a square package,
heavily wrapped in brown paper, under one arm,
he slowly turned the upper pocket in his old blue
coat inside out.
“I aint erfraid,” he asserted to the silence, 44 n0
more an Miss Octavie is, but we sho has had
ernuff bad luck, at Ferrall Hall, an I aint er takin
no chances.”
After which soliloquy, he replaced the package
of papers on the pommel of the saddle in front of
him and rode slowly onward.
The shadows were lengthening when he at last
arrived at Beryl Terraces, the stateliest home in all
that region of country, and the loveliest, surround
ed as it was on all sides by many acres of well
kept grounds. The glint of the white columns, be
yond the green sweep of the terraces in front of the
massive walls of the house, etched here and there
with ivy, made a fitting climax for the great hill,
which had been artistically graded to the foot. Un
cle Ezra hitched his horse to a stone post and began
the ascent of the terraces. He looked very digni
fied. He was a man with a mission.
From the side door he was ushered, by the butler,
into the presence of the master of the house, who
sat in a deep leather chair before his library fire.
David Grantland was gray-haired; but still strik
ingly prepossessing. His blue eyes, while clear
and penetrating, were not unkind. He had an ag
gressive chin, and while his chiseled lips shut firmly,
they had, just at that moment, the suggestion of a
smile.
(To be Continued.)