“Philip Berger informs the Youth Workers Group that the first meeting of the committee will be held on Sunday, April 20, at 2 p.m. at the farm in Fairfield. Please arrive punctually and bring some ideas.”
Patrick reread this letter with a smile of satisfaction. To go to Philip’s home, to recreate the group of boys, to mingle again with healthy folk after three months in a hospital, what a joy! What a blessed relief from the painful and tedious massage considered necessary to restore the flexibility of his leg, so stiff and tender after the plaster was removed. His elbows on the window-sill, Patrick bent his impatient gaze on the busy street. Bob had promised to come and call for him, and give him a lift on his bicycle, as the journey was too long for him at present. John, Charlie and Andrew would meet them at the farm. At last Bob’s blond head appeared as he rode swiftly to the door.
“Hello, Bob! I’m coming down.” Patrick limped hurriedly down and met Bob halfway up the stairs.
“Hello, Patrick! Get on my back for this last flight,” proposed Bob with beaming face. “I owe you a lot. Isn’t it thanks to you that I am at Mr. Mollett’s?”
“You like it there?”
“It’s marvelous! Just think, I sleep there, and have all my meals with him! And we even have the same tastes! Like me, he loves sweet things and we have an equal aversion to garlic and onions!”
“What a happy coincidence! And you get on all right with the work?”
“I have everything to learn, of course, and I’m a long way from being as quick as my boss. I do the best I can and don’t think he is too dissatisfied with me. In any case, I’d do anything to make him keep me on. He trusts me and is ever so kind.”
By now the two lads were out of the town, Bob mounted on his bicycle pedaling away, with Pat on the carrier behind him. Presently they reached the tall firs which hid the hut, the place of their secret meetings.
“Say, Bob! We have time to stop here a few minutes. Come with me to have a look at the hut.” “Whatever for?”
“I’m wondering if anyone has got in there since our last meeting.”
The two threaded their way between the thick bushes, trampling the tall grass among clumps of primroses. Reaching the hut, Bob glanced through the dim, dirty window. “I see nothing,” said he, “let’s try the door.” The door resisted their efforts to open it.
“You see, Patrick, there’s nothing here; come on now. This hut has lost all attraction to me.”
Even as he spoke, a dismal groan startled the two lads!
“Let’s clear off,” stammered Bob; “if someone is living there they’ll take us again for thieves.” And he set off running towards the edge of the wood. Patrick, unable to run, remained near the hut, while keeping a sharp look-out. Another moan, more pitiful than before, made him shudder; but mustering his courage, he cried out, “Who is there? Can I help you?” No reply came. Bob, hiding behind a tree, signaled urgently to him to get away quickly, but Patrick seemed nailed to the spot.
“Whoever you are, we are ready to help you,” he repeated. The flight of a squirrel jumping from branch to branch, was the only answer to his appeal.
“Am I dreaming?” he wondered; “was it only the mewing of a cat?” Slowly he rejoined his impatient chum.
“Do come away! We won’t meddle with that old hut again. Who knows? It may be the owner living in it. I’m sick of those pranks. Three months of confinement is enough for me!”
“We are doing no harm,” said Patrick, “no one could blame us for going to the help of someone in pain.”
“It could be misunderstood, considering our past record.”
Patrick was silent. Must he then be shadowed for days to come by the consequences of one sin? But he couldn’t shake off the thought of a sick or unhappy person lying in the hut.
At a turn of the road they encountered Charlie, Andrew and John, and not long after, they reached the farm, where Philip and his young brothers of twelve and thirteen years, hailed them cheerily, not to mention Ralph, who couldn’t stop jumping round them with joyous barks of welcome.
“Our parents are out,” announced Philip, “so come into the kitchen. Next time we’ll meet outside in the barn, but today it is a bit cold. Sit down, round the table, ready for a good ‘confab.’
“Since we are starting a new group,” he went on, “it seems to me that we ought to begin with a code of rules. Didn’t you have one before?”
“Yes!” cried the former ‘Jolly Outlaws’ all together; “we promised not to tell anyone of our doings - to pay fifty cents a month - not to betray each other.”
“You have chosen me for leader,” said Philip smiling. “May I reserve Rule 1 of the new code for myself? But first, let’s have your proposals.”
“Agreed!” said John, taking a pencil and paper from his pocket. “Fire away! I’ll jot them down.”
“Rule 2,” said Patrick: “Find a way to replace Mr. Mollett’s car.”
“Hear, hear!” cried Bob; “but it will need more than fifty cents a month.”
“Rule 3. Keep secret all our projects,” suggested Charlie.
“Why?”’asked John; “We have nothing to hide.”
“That’s true,” said Philip, “but Charlie is right, our aims and plans will be between ourselves.”
“Rule 4. To do something useful,” proposed John.
“Rule 5. Hang together always; and try to encourage Cyril and Simon if they come back,” added Bob.
“Now Philip, it’s your turn; we’d very much like to know the first rule.”
“Well,” said the young man, “I should like all our meetings to start with a short reading from the Bible!”
“Ugh!” cried Charlie, “I don’t like sermons! They give us enough at home as it is.”
“To speak of the Lord Jesus is not making a sermon, as you imagine. It is just speaking of a Person who cares and helps us. The Bible is a signpost; without it we lose our way.”
“The Bible is such a difficult book,” sighed Bob. “How can one find his way in it?”
“Let’s start together to discover it,” said Philip, taking from his pocket a black Book. “Long ago, a man was in doubt like you what road to follow; and he prayed this prayer: ‘Cause me to know the way wherein I should walk; for I lift up my soul unto Thee’” (Psalm 143:88Cause me to hear thy lovingkindness in the morning; for in thee do I trust: cause me to know the way wherein I should walk; for I lift up my soul unto thee. (Psalm 143:8)).
“Who was that man?” asked Patrick.
“It was David. Possibly he was still young when he made that prayer. One day God showed him that He had heard it, saying, ‘I will guide thee with Mine eye’ (Psalm 32:88I will instruct thee and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go: I will guide thee with mine eye. (Psalm 32:8)). We are setting out today on a new road. Do you agree that together we do like David, ask God to keep His eye on us so that we don’t miss our way?”
The lads sat in embarrassed silence. Philip’s face was so bright and peaceful that they were not put off by his words, but they were afraid of committing themselves.
Suddenly Bob blurted out, “As for me, I’ve nothing to say against it. I’ve no desire to go back to the old ways. That cost me too much!”
Philip did not press his point, but bowed his head and began to pray aloud, very simply.
“It seems as if he is speaking to Someone very near,” thought Patrick, as he listened to Philip’s prayer, claiming the help of God and His guidance in their plans. The young man raised his head and passed in review the young faces turned toward him.
“Now we’ll speak about what we have most at heart, the means of earning the money to buy a new car for Mr. Mollett. Bob, have you a suggestion?”
“The only thing I can do is to work my hardest at Mr. Mollett’s. In the evening I fall asleep and I’ve only Sundays free. By going without chocolate and candy and being very careful I may perhaps manage to save $10 a month out of the $25 that I earn.”
“That’s a good sum to start with,” cried Patrick; “if only I could make as much!”
“My father invites you all to help us pick the cherries. We have an orchard full of them, and no one has time to gather the fruit. You could eat as many as you like and take some home, and you would earn $1.50 each afternoon.”
“I’ll do it!” cried Charlie and Andrew together, “Wednesday and Saturday afternoons you can count on us.”
“I’d like to find a job for the holidays,” said Patrick. “School gives me enough to do at the moment. Thanks to Doctor Garnier, the principal has agreed that I don’t need to take a second year in my class. I want to catch up with the rest, and so I must study hard! What can you suggest, Philip?”
“Work is never lacking on the farm, but I question whether you’re strong enough yet to help with the harvesting, anyway. We can only sleep two boys, even while Claud is in Germany, and it would be too much for you to come to and fro.”
“Will you take us?” pleaded Charlie.
“Are you really keen enough to give up a seaside holiday? Could you get up every day at five o’clock? Are you afraid of hard work and dirtying your hands?”
“We’d be delighted to stay here,” affirmed Andrew decidedly. “My parents mean to send us to a poor farmer in Switzerland, as they did last year, and we don’t fancy his place at all. We’d be a lot happier with you, and we’d work hard.”
“Suppose your parents don’t agree?”
“Ask our stepmother! She’ll like nothing better. Her one and only wish is to get rid of us, and Dad doesn’t dare oppose her. I’m telling you, we don’t spare her in practical jokes - we really are young demons!”
“I don’t doubt it,” said Philip laughing.
“May I join in the good cause?” asked John. “It will be much more interesting than just playing around.”
“Me, too! Me, too!” cried Philip’s younger brothers.
“No good offers will be turned down,” said Philip. “Everyone is welcome; let’s sum up the situation. Bob will save from $5 to $10 a month; that comes to about $75 by the end of the year. Andrew and Charlie will pick cherries and help in field work, probably earning about $150 between them. Luke and Raymond - while you’re up the mountain you could collect blueberries and mushrooms and sell them to the hotels. If you manage to reach a total of $75, I shall congratulate you.”
“I’ll write to Simon to join with us,” suggested Patrick; “he always seems to be flush with cash and he’s not stingy. As for Cyril, we can’t count on him.”
“Then to be optimistic, all together we may succeed in raising $500.”
“That’s not enough,” sighed Patrick; “how hard it is to get hold of money.”
“Oh, we’re doing fine, and perhaps we’ll find still more means of making some by autumn. We shall be too busy to find time for sport and excursions at present, but once our goal is won, I promise you a surprise that will make up for all your hard effort!”
“Tell us what it is,” they begged; but Philip refused to budge.
“Just one thing more to close our business affairs,” he said; “name a treasurer to receive the money and keep the accounts.”
“Count me out,” said Bob, “I’m no good on figures.”
“Patrick,” proposed John; “you’re good at math; you’re just cut out for the job.”
“Hadn’t it better be Philip, the eldest and chief of the Youth Group?”
“No, Patrick, I’ll be the auditor of accounts. As soon as you have $25 in hand, bring it to me and I’ll put it in the bank.” Philip got up, hunted in a cupboard, and handed to Patrick a small old wooden chest. “Here is the safe for you to put the money in each month. It has no key but it opens mysteriously. I’ll bet that neither of you will be able to find the secret spring.”
While the small chest was passing from hand to hand and remaining obstinately closed, Philip went to get an enormous apple tart which he proceeded to share among the boys.
“This is most uncanny!” cried John; “to think that this little box has got us all beat! Do you have to pronounce magic words over it? Well, Philip! I can’t do any better than the others.”
Philip took the chest and no sooner was it in his hands than it opened like an enchanted castle, showing the interior lined with violet velvet. Seven heads pressed round him with keen interest, as he showed them a tiny spring hidden under the carving.
“It could be Chinese,” remarked Charlie.
“You said it. This chest was given to my grandfather by a Chinaman. He left it to me, and I prize it highly, but it seems to me worthy to contain the proceeds of our labors. Take charge of it, Patrick.”
A fine rain was beginning to fall. None of the boys had any wish to leave the farm kitchen, but the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Berger caused them to make a move.
“Patrick, I’ll take you in the car,” announced Philip. “All the others have their bikes, and it’s hardly safe for Bob to take you down the hill on his carrier.”
“Philip,” said Patrick, as soon as they were alone in the car, “I’ve been bursting to tell you - when we were coming up, Bob and I went up close to the hut where we used to hold our meetings. The door was fastened, but we plainly heard someone groaning inside. When I called out offering help, there was a deathly silence, and Bob forced me away, fearing to get mixed up in something unsavory. Let’s go there now! Will you come?”
“Sure I will; we ought not to leave any needy creature without help, even if it’s only a cat shut in by mistake.”
Philip stopped the car at the place Patrick indicated. They got out and struggled through the sodden grass and under the close-set branches, softly as wolves on the trail. On reaching the hut, they were surprised to find the door open! Patrick entered first. In a corner a heap of sacks composed a wretched bed; the antiquated stove and the thick cobwebs were there as before. Philip soon followed. On raising one of the sacks he discovered a blood-stained cloth.
“An injured person was taking refuge here just recently,” he said. “Your visit has put him to flight, I’m afraid.”
Disappointed, Patrick came out and examined the ground outside, finding nothing. The rain poured down, and a keen wind made him shiver. Philip rejoined him and they quickly returned to the waiting car.
“Your refugee can’t be very sick, since he has left his shelter,” said Philip; “but I’ll promise you to come again tomorrow and to let you know if I succeed in finding this mysterious person.”