Fifteen Years with the Outcast Part 11

"Would you care to hear her?"

"Sure I would. Please go ask her to come in." Soon I returned with my precious little instrument.

"Is that it? Wouldn't she come?"

"Of course she would. Listen. Lucy."

Oh! those blessed tears she shed as she pillowed her head on my breast; those blessed, blessed tears!

"Come tomorrow, please come."

"G.o.d willing, Lucy, yes."

"Why do you say, 'G.o.d willing'? Of course he'll be willing."

And I went forth, scarcely able to contain myself for very joy.

The next morning I returned and spent many hours with this precious, very precious jewel. There was no longer any restraint. She listened eagerly whilst I imparted choice portions of the Word. (Reader, the utmost precaution had to be used, for she had not yet accepted her Savior. Believe me, there is danger of excess in surfeiting with the Bible. I lovingly admonish you to seek earnestly for divine wisdom with regard to dealing with souls. My lessons on those lines have thus far been dearly purchased; for I have ignorantly, zealously, made many mistakes, thus for the time being, hindered, more than aided their spiritual progress. To ill.u.s.trate: A janitor's child has a toy broom.

Papa has just swept one part of the hall and is about to remove the acc.u.mulated dust. "Papa, let me help you," and forthwith the child sweeps a large portion of the dust over the already cleaned floor. Papa sighs, sadly smiles, says nothing, but patiently proceeds to clean up again. Reader, I'm sure you see the point.)

Not many days thereafter, when Lucy was again able to be up and dressed, she asked me to pray for her, and before we rose from our knees, she knew my Savior was hers. Even so, yet she still smoked cigarettes. This grieved my soul, but I waited until of her own accord she inquired whether I thought it a sin to smoke. She excused herself on the plea that smoking quieted her nerves and also induced sleep. She told me, however, that she was now trying to curtail, as she had hitherto indulged in as many as twenty a day. I asked if she would wish her dear Redeemer to see her rolling and smoking cigarettes, referred her to Rev. 22:11, and soon, without further comment, took my departure.

She was able to attend services the following Sunday. I still see her eagerly absorbing everything said and sung. As soon as the meeting closed, she took possession of me, marshaled me to her cell, kissed and seated me, and then said:

"I want to tell you something so badly, I could hardly wait until the others were through. Mother Roberts, after you left last Wednesday, I got to thinking about my filthy habit, so I went on my knees, and did what you told me; I prayed, if it wasn't right, for G.o.d to make me hate it. My! but I was nervous an hour later, and _had_ to have a smoke. I woke up in the night wanting another, so rolled my cigarette and was just in the act of lighting it when something seemed to say, 'Lucy, if you'll let it alone you shall never need one again!' I put out the match and lay down, but I couldn't sleep. I was that nervous; so I reached over to the window ledge, picked up my cigarette, put it between my lips once more and struck a light, when again I distinctly got that impression. Oh! but I was tempted, so for fear I would weaken I got out of bed, and with my bare feet crushed the dirty weed all to smithereens. I slept soundly till morning, and woke up smelling the odor of tobacco-smoke. Mother, I want to tell you the strange part of it; the smell actually made me sick at my stomach. How do you account for that? To be sure, I'm very nervous, but nothing on earth could tempt me to smoke again."...

Dear Lucy grew in grace very rapidly. Erelong she confided who her family were, also read me portions of their letters, and at her request I wrote to her mother, who soon replied at length.

The time was approaching when my dear spiritual daughter would soon have her freedom; but I learned that, for good and sufficient family reasons, it would be impossible for her to return to them for some time to come. The mother wrote, asking if it would be possible for me to a.s.sume temporary guardians.h.i.+p.

Owing to impaired health, I was not at this time residing at the Home of Peace, but instead was occupying quiet quarters in the cottage of a sister missionary, who was absent much of the time and who, in return for light services, gave me the use of a nice large room furnished for light housekeeping. I asked and obtained her permission to have Lucy share the room with me--this with the proviso that Lucy's ident.i.ty be closely guarded. Also, I obtained sanction from the judge (who, when sentencing her, ordered her removed from San Francisco at the expiration of her term) to keep her with me, but under close surveillance.

Lucy joyfully placed herself in my keeping, without knowing what disposition was to be made of her. Frequently she pet.i.tioned to be lodged in my immediate neighborhood. In reply, I simply smiled. You can not imagine how much I was enjoying my delightful secret nor with what pleasure I prepared new clothing purchased with the money sent by her own dear mother. Lucy and I were now counting the days, soon the hours.

My pretty room, with its folding-bed, organ, sideboard, decorations of gla.s.s and chinaware, underwent, the day before her freedom, an extra cleaning in preparation for my guest, and I arose at three o'clock the following morning in order to add finis.h.i.+ng touches and also to prepare for an immediate meal on our return. At five o'clock I boarded a car, which shortly before six landed me in front of the long driveway leading to the prison grounds.

Lucy was ready even to her hat and gloves. She was regaled with such remarks as, "Oh, but you're the lucky girl!" "Wish some one would take a like interest in me," "Come back and see us once in a while," or, "Won't you write me? It'll be such a comfort to hear from you, Lucy."

Next she received very kind, parental advice from the Captain and Mrs.

Kincaid. Then we went down the steps and terraced walks, the door in the prison wall swung wide open, and once more Lucy was free.

But why does she stand stock still? Why inhale such long, deep breaths?

"Isn't it lovely, Mother Roberts, lovely, lovely!"

"The air is just as fresh in the garden we have just left, Lucy dear."

"No doubt, but this is freedom! Praise G.o.d, this is freedom! Good-by [this to the guard on the lookout]. When I come again, it will be to preach the gospel. G.o.d bless you. Good-by. Come, Mother, I'm ready."

I was loathe to check her enthusiasm on the way home, but had to do so, in order not to attract the attention of the pa.s.sengers. We reached our street. I opened the door with my latch-key, led the way up-stairs, entered my room, and bade her welcome in the name of the dear Lord. She had prostrated herself at my feet, but I quickly raised her, and we knelt in prayer and thanksgiving. _It was worth all the gold in the Klond.y.k.e to me to hear that girl's prayer_. She couldn't eat, and I didn't do much better. The rest of the day Lucy spent in writing a long, long letter to her parents. If I remember right, she covered thirty pages of ordinary letter paper.

Bedtime arrived.

"Where am I to sleep, Mother dear?" Lucy inquired. "With me, Lucy, here in the folding-bed," I answered.

"Mother, do you mean it? Would you let me sleep with you?"

"Why not, dear? You're my honored guest. You're my spiritual daughter.

Jesus says, 'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, ye have done it unto me.' Don't you understand, Lucy? In entertaining you, I am entertaining Jesus."

"My! Mother, how you must love me! Oh but G.o.d will bless you for this!"

Sure-enough he has, over and over, countless times, aye, even up to the present moment. We shall hear more of Lucy in the next chapter.

CHAPTER XV.

WE PLAN FOR A HOME FOR RELEASED PRISON GIRLS.

Hours had slipped away. We had both been silent, but I wondered whether Lucy, like myself, was not sleeping, but simply resting quietly for fear of disturbing me. One-thirty, then two o'clock. I whispered:

"Are you asleep, Lucy?"

"No, Mother dear," she answered; "I haven't slept a wink for thinking of the goodness of G.o.d and wis.h.i.+ng lots of other unfortunates had such good luck as me tonight."

"I also, Lucy; furthermore, I'm pondering how to proceed to procure them a home with nice large grounds in which they can work and take pleasure, but I haven't any means. All I now own is my bicycle. I left it for sale in Woodland. Perhaps G.o.d will soon find a purchaser; if so, I will take it as a sign that he wants me to travel from place to place in their behalf. Give me your hand, Lucy." She clasped mine under the covers whilst I prayed in a low tone, "Father, art thou impressing us to seek a home for the girls, a home removed from city temptations and environments? If so, I pray thee, seal the impression with thy Word. In Jesus' name I ask this"; and Lucy fervently echoed my Amen. Next I lighted the lamp on the little stand by our bed side, on which lay a writing tablet, a pencil, and my Bible. Reverently opening the latter, we found ourselves looking down upon Genesis, twelfth chapter, first and ninth verses. Thus did our Father seal the impression of the Holy Spirit with his Word. "We will prepare for a long trip, Lucy," I said, "and when we start we will journey toward the South."

Without further notification, I received by mail, within the following fortnight, a cheque for twenty dollars (purchase price of wheel). This amount procured us some necessaries, paid a few small bills and our fares to Redwood City, leaving us with the sum total of sixty cents.

Before proceeding on this undertaking, we occupied every hour of the day, with but few exceptions, in active preparation; our evenings and Sundays we spent in church or prison, or among the outcasts. I am indebted to Lucy for admission into many heretofore forbidden places, where she would be invariably welcomed with such a greeting as this:

"Well, h.e.l.lo, Kid! glad to see you. When did you get out? How's all the rest of them?"

"This is my dear Mother Roberts," she would say. "Please welcome her for my sake. I want to tell you I'm not one of you any longer. I've found my Savior. Don't I look different? Don't I look happy?"

"You bet yer life y' do, Kid. Say, we don't mind being preached to if you'll do the preaching. Go on girlie, pitch in, we-uns would like to hear from the likes of you, cause we know you," etc.

The precious girl! How she enthused all of us as she told the wonderful story and implored them to seek the Savior! Always we finished with prayer. Even bar-tenders, saloon-keepers, and women overseers over the girls in the various dives were touched by Lucy's brief messages from G.o.d. The time was all too short on these occasions. As we said our final farewells (July 1, 1903), it was impossible to count the number of those who said: "Y've done me good, Lucy, Y've done me good. Yes, I mean to heed what y've said. I know it's right. Stick to it, girlie, stick to it." And not a few said they had sold their last drink or had drunk their last drop.

I wish you could appreciate how wonderful all this is to me now (Sept.

5, 1911) whilst recalling and writing it, here in my quiet, pretty room in the Gospel Trumpet Company's home for their consecrated workers. It seems as though but a few days, instead of years, have elapsed since that marvelously profitable time.

In the interval between her coming to me and our departure we visited, as frequently as possible, the prison, the place of her incarceration.