The community school where the Hillman children attended might have seemed poor and small to more sophisticated city-dwellers. But to these simple folk it was a very fine place. It was built of yellow brick and actually had showers in the basement restrooms and a large room for activities and assemblies. The ball games, however, were played in the town auditorium.
On this particular autumn day, when Daddy was still away, the school buses were in their accustomed places having received the buoyant and mostly unkempt lads and lasses from grades 1-12 who lived in the country. The town dwellers could be seen sauntering off in varying groups or a few stragglers bouncing balls on the playground. Ted Polson looked at his watch: “Can’t wait any longer, Jennie, you sure Clara was in school today? Don’t you think she probably went to the ball game? The bus ain’t in yet from the game. I reckon somebody’ll bring ‘em home. I’ve already waited 15 minutes.”
“Well – I didn’t think she went to the game.” (Jennie hated to say, “Daddy doesn’t allow us to go to the ball games.”) She didn’t, however, need to be timid, for a girl, greatly disliked by Mary Jane, shouted from the back of the bus, “The Hillmans are too religious to go to ball games!”
“Haw! Haw! Suture Ted. Let’s get rollin!” Horace French rudely guffawed! He was a cruel boy.
Jennie, Lori, and Ellen flushed and looked at the floor. Mary Jane and Robbie and Alfred French were having a scuffle over a left over apple from lunch and didn’t hear.
The bus driver winked at Bertha French and slyly remarked: “So old Ned’s got a little rebel in his camp, eh? Yah, that Clara – she’s got the spunk, all right. I hope she has a ‘ball’ at that ball game!”
Seated at last as the bus rolled down the dusty road, Mary Jane gasped, “Jennie! Lori! We left Clara!” What a jab in the ribs Lori gave her!
“Be quiet, dummy! We think Clara went to the game, and the bus didn’t get back in time. Just because Daddy’s gone she has to –.” And Lori bit her lip so hard it nearly bled.
“Wow! Will she get it when he gets home!” and Mary Jane’s heart went out in genuine pity to this sister she was beginning to relate to more and more. She noticed that some of the other children on the bus were whispering and giving the Hillmans side glances. The older girls felt it most. Jennie looked at Ellen with whom she was sitting and sighed painfully, “It sure isn’t easy to be a separate Christian, is it, honey? But don’t worry. It’ll all be worth it someday.”
Ellen was wondering. She didn’t have settled peace like Jennie, though she loved the Lord. Their social life was – well, there just wasn’t much. The meeting they attended was sixty miles away and there were few children there. No wonder the Hillmans clung to each other so tightly!
Our scene changes and the clock turns back a few hours. The game is over amid joyous shouts of victory. They had all cheered until their voices could hardly squeak. The driver was hustling the excited youngsters into the bus; but Clara, oh no, she was one of the luckier ones who had a friend with his own car. Ray Robertson generously offered rides to many more. The little Model T Ford was loaded so tightly that the coach came around to order a few into the bus. But Clara was in the middle of the front seat next to Ray.
“Comfortable, Clara?” he asked solicitously. “See, we didn’t do anything bad; just had a heap of fun! Don’t worry now. Your old Pop won’t ever know.”
“Hey Ray! Step on it, will you? I got to make that bus home! My Dad would sure kill me if I didn’t!” shouted a boy in the back seat.
Away they roared. Clara was uneasy. To make matters worse, Ray lightly placed his right arm across her shoulders and dexterously wheeled his little car out to the country road.
“Beat the bus, Ray! C’mon. Let’s don’t eat their dust all the way!” another girl yelled.
In a great flurry of dust, Ray roared around the bus. Any “local yokel” could have told him he was going too fast to make the curve by the old Blake place. But Ray had a challenge and a girl to show off for.
Five minutes later the bus driver came upon them. The Model A had done a flip and was sitting across a ditch wrong side up. Someone’s legs were hanging out a broken window and the boy who had been sitting next to Clara was in the ditch bleeding and dazed.
“Oh, God, help us!” the bus driver breathed, pulling the bus over quickly. “All girls stay in the bus! Boys out and help!”
Just then the coach and some others drove up. There were plenty of strong arms and backs and willing hands. But the damage was done. Ray was badly cut on the face; one boy had a broken leg, and pretty little Wanda Carter had a broken front tooth. Clara felt as if every bone was broken at first, but finally emerged with minor cuts and a whopping bruise on her thigh.
“How any of ‘em came out alive, I’ll never know! The good Lord must’ve been breathin’ down somebody’s neck for sure!” the bus driver remarked when it was all over. “Kids don’t seem to be no different than when I was a lad. Only difference is we didn’t have no throttle to open up. I seen it comin’, though.”
It was a miserable evening for Mrs. Hillman and the girls. Hardly a cheerful word was spoken. But they jumped from their chairs all at once when about seven o’clock the phone rang at last, one long and a short ( the Hillman’s ring on the party line). At least they knew Clara was alive and would be home before long. Then about nine o’clock a subdued, red-eyed and aching Clara walked into the kitchen. Ray’s father had driven her home.
How sad Mamma looked as she read from the Word where the Lord chastens those of His children who are wayward. “I guess Christians just can’t get by with much!” sighed Lori.
“No, honey, they can’t. But our Christian testimony has really been tarnished. Everyone knew our stand, so it’s – well, just sad.” Mamma’s head was down.
Daddy didn’t get home until eleven P.M., so Clara had to go to bed with further judgment hanging over her head. Mary Jane remembered her agony over the separator disks, and sympathized. She went to Clara’s room. But the door was shut. She heard sniffs and nose blowing within.
“Clara?”
“What do you want? Go away!”
“Please, Clara. Talk to me. I’m not mad at you.” “Well, okay! Come in.”
Clara looked the picture of dejection. Her hair was stringing, one eye was black and there was a swollen bruise on her lip.
“Don’t just stare at me! I know I look a sight! Take it from me, Mary Jane, –. It’s well – sometimes I think it’s better to give up and just plow straight. I think Mamma must pray about all the time.”
“Yeah, I think she does.” Mary Jane sat on the bed. “She was always shutting her eyes and sending up quick ones tonight, I know. Did you think you were going to be killed when it happened?”
“I didn’t have time to think. Believe me, you can’t get saved in time if you aren’t already, when an accident happens. I – I guess I deserved more than I got.” Clara actually looked humble!
“I wanted to tell you, Clara. You were out this morning – but I – I got saved last night.”
“Well, well!” and Clara looked pleased. “I thought you was already. But anyway, that’s good. I guess I’m a good example of how not to behave. At least, I’m good for something’,” and she smiled a wry smile. “I’ll bet I don’t do that again, real soon, though.”
“Was that the secret – I mean, about going to the game with Ray Robertson?”
“Oh, get out of here, will you?” And a pillow came straight for Mary Jane’s head!
The “heart-to-heart” talk was over.
Next evening Daddy and Clara were closeted. Mary Jane strained to hear bits of the lecture. Phrases reached her ears such as, “ball games not bad in themselves... associations formed... snares of the devil... realize... loneliness... Lord graciously make up the loss... patiently wait...”
Clara, in the days to come, was much less ready with the “How could you be so stupid?” line.