Books: In His Steps

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"By the way, what has become of Jasper Chase?" Virginia asked the
question innocently, but Rachel flushed and Virginia added with a
smile, "I suppose he is writing another book. Is he going to put you
into this one, Rachel? You know I always suspected Jasper Chase of
doing that very thing in his first story."

"Virginia," Rachel spoke with the frankness that had always existed
between the two friends, "Jasper Chase told me the other night that
he--in fact--he proposed to me--or he would, if--"

Rachel stopped and sat with her hands clasped on her lap, and there
were tears in her eyes.

"Virginia, I thought a little while ago I loved him, as he said he
loved me. But when he spoke, my heart felt repelled, and I said what
I ought to say. I told him no. I have not seen him since. That was
the night of the first conversions at the Rectangle."

"I am glad for you," said Virginia quietly.

"Why?" asked Rachel a little startled.

"Because, I have never really liked Jasper Chase. He is too cold
and--I do not like to judge him, but I have always distrusted his
sincerity in taking the pledge at the church with the rest."

Rachel looked at Virginia thoughtfully.

"I have never given my heart to him I am sure. He touched my
emotions, and I admired his skill as a writer. I have thought at
times that I cared a good deal for him. I think perhaps if he had
spoken to me at any other time than the one he chose, I could easily
have persuaded myself that I loved him. But not now."

Again Rachel paused suddenly, and when she looked up at Virginia
again there were tears on her face. Virginia came to her and put her
arm about her tenderly.

When Rachel had left the house, Virginia sat in the hall thinking
over the confidence her friend had just shown her. There was
something still to be told, Virginia felt sure from Rachel's manner,
but she did not feel hurt that Rachel had kept back something. She
was simply conscious of more on Rachel's mind than she had revealed.

Very soon Rollin came back, and he and Virginia, arm in arm as they
had lately been in the habit of doing, walked up and down the long
hall. It was easy for their talk to settle finally upon Rachel
because of the place she was to occupy in the plans which were being
made for the purchase of property at the Rectangle.

"Did you ever know of a girl of such really gifted powers in vocal
music who was willing to give her life to the people as Rachel is
going to do? She is going to give music lessons in the city, have
private pupils to make her living, and then give the people in the
Rectangle the benefit of her culture and her voice."

"It is certainly a very good example of self-sacrifice," replied
Rollin a little stiffly.

Virginia looked at him a little sharply. "But don't you think it is
a very unusual example? Can you imagine--" here Virginia named half
a dozen famous opera singers--"doing anything of this sort?"

"No, I cannot," Rollin answered briefly. "Neither can I imagine
Miss--" he spoke the name of the girl with the red parasol who had
begged Virginia to take the girls to the Rectangle--" doing what you
are doing, Virginia."

"Any more than I can imagine Mr.--" Virginia spoke the name of a
young society leader "going about to the clubs doing your work,
Rollin." The two walked on in silence for the length of the hall.

"Coming back to Rachel," began Virginia, "Rollin, why do you treat
her with such a distinct, precise manner? I think, Rollin--pardon me
if I hurt you--that she is annoyed by it. You need to be on easy
terms. I don't think Rachel likes this change."

Rollin suddenly stopped. He seemed deeply agitated. He took his arm
from Virginia's and walked alone to the end of the hall. Then he
returned, with his hands behind him, and stopped near his sister and
said, "Virginia, have you not learned my secret?"

Virginia looked bewildered, then over her face the unusual color
crept, showing that she understood.

"I have never loved any one but Rachel Winslow." Rollin spoke calmly
enough now. "That day she was here when you talked about her refusal
to join the concert company, I asked her to be my wife; out there on
the avenue. She refused me, as I knew she would. And she gave as her
reason the fact that I had no purpose in life, which was true
enough. Now that I have a purpose, now that I am a new man, don't
you see, Virginia, how impossible it is for me to say anything? I
owe my very conversion to Rachel's singing. And yet that night while
she sang I can honestly say that, for the time being, I never
thought of her voice except as God's message. I believe that all my
personal love for her was for the time merged into a personal love
to my God and my Saviour." Rollin was silent, then he went on with
more emotion. "I still love her, Virginia. But I do not think she
ever could love me." He stopped and looked his sister in the face
with a sad smile.

"I don't know about that," said Virginia to herself. She was noting
Rollin's handsome face, his marks of dissipation nearly all gone
now, the firm lips showing manhood and courage, the clear eyes
looking into hers frankly, the form strong and graceful. Rollin was
a man now. Why should not Rachel come to love him in time? Surely
the two were well fitted for each other, especially now that their
purpose in life was moved by the same Christian force.

Chapter Seventeen

THE next day she went down to the NEWS office to see Edward Norman
and arrange the details of her part in the establishment of the
paper on its new foundation. Mr. Maxwell was present at this
conference, and the three agreed that whatever Jesus would do in
detail as editor of a daily paper, He would be guided by the same
general principles that directed His conduct as the Saviour of the
world.

"I have tried to put down here in concrete form some of the things
that it has seemed to me Jesus would do," said Edward Norman. He
read from a paper lying on his desk, and Maxwell was reminded again
of his own effort to put into written form his own conception of
Jesus' probable action, and also of Milton Wright's same attempt in
his business.

"I have headed this, 'What would Jesus do as Edward Norman, editor
of a daily newspaper in Raymond?'

"1. He would never allow a sentence or a picture in his paper that
could be called bad or coarse or impure in any way.

"2. He would probably conduct the political part of the paper from
the standpoint of non-partisan patriotism, always looking upon all
political questions in the light of their relation to the Kingdom of
God, and advocating measures from the standpoint of their relation
to the welfare of the people, always on the basis of 'What is
right?' never on the basis of 'What is for the best interests of
this or that party?' In other words, He would treat all political
questions as he would treat every other subject, from the standpoint
of the advancement of the Kingdom of God on earth."

Edward Norman looked up from the reading a moment. "You understand
that is my opinion of Jesus' probable action on political matters in
a daily paper. I am not passing judgment on other newspaper men who
may have a different conception of Jesus' probable action from mine.
I am simply trying to answer honestly, 'What would Jesus do as
Edward Norman?' And the answer I find is what I have put down.'

"3. The end and aim of a daily paper conducted by Jesus would be to
do the will of God. That is, His main purpose in carrying on a
newspaper would not be to make money, or gain political influence;
but His first and ruling purpose would be to so conduct his paper
that it would be evident to all his subscribers that He was trying
to seek first the Kingdom of God by means of His paper. This purpose
would be as distinct and unquestioned as the purpose of a minister
or a missionary or any unselfish martyr in Christian work anywhere.

"4. All questionable advertisements would be impossible.

"5. The relations of Jesus to the employees on the paper would be of
the most loving character."

"So far as I have gone," said Norman again looking up, "I am of
opinion that Jesus would employ practically some form of
co-operation that would represent the idea of a mutual interest in a
business where all were to move together for the same great end. I
am working out such a plan, and I am confident it will be
successful. At any rate, once introduce the element of personal love
into a business like this, take out the selfish principle of doing
it for personal profits to a man or company, and I do not see any
way except the most loving personal interest between editors,
reporters, pressmen, and all who contribute anything to the life of
the paper. And that interest would be expressed not only in the
personal love and sympathy but in a sharing with the profits of the
business."

"6. As editor of a daily paper today, Jesus would give large space
to the work of the Christian world. He would devote a page possibly
to the facts of Reform, of sociological problems, of institutional
church work and similar movements.

"7. He would do all in His power in His paper to fight the saloon as
an enemy of the human race and an unnecessary part of our
civilization. He would do this regardless of public sentiment in the
matter and, of course, always regardless of its effect upon His
subscription list."

Again Edward Norman looked up. "I state my honest conviction on this
point. Of course, I do not pass judgment on the Christian men who
are editing other kinds of papers today. But as I interpret Jesus, I
believe He would use the influence of His paper to remove the saloon
entirely from the political and social life of the nation."

"8. Jesus would not issue a Sunday edition.

"9. He would print the news of the world that people ought to know.
Among the things they do not need to know, and which would not be
published, would be accounts of brutal prize-fights, long accounts
of crimes, scandals in private families, or any other human events
which in any way would conflict with the first point mentioned in
this outline.

"10. If Jesus had the amount of money to use on a paper which we
have, He would probably secure the best and strongest Christian men
and women to co-operate with him in the matter of contributions.
That will be my purpose, as I shall be able to show you in a few
days.

"11. Whatever the details of the paper might demand as the paper
developed along its definite plan, the main principle that guided it
would always be the establishment of the Kingdom of God in the
world. This large general principle would necessarily shape all the
detail."

Edward Norman finished reading the plan. He was very thoughtful.

"I have merely sketched a faint outline. I have a hundred ideas for
making the paper powerful that I have not thought out fully as yet.
This is simply suggestive. I have talked it over with other
newspaper men. Some of them say I will have a weak, namby-pamby
Sunday-school sheet. If I get out something as good as a
Sunday-school it will be pretty good. Why do men, when they want to
characterize something as particularly feeble, always use a
Sunday-school as a comparison, when they ought to know that the
Sunday-school is one of the strongest, most powerful influences in
our civilization in this country today? But the paper will not
necessarily be weak because it is good. Good things are more
powerful than bad. The question with me is largely one of support
from the Christian people of Raymond. There are over twenty thousand
church members here in this city. If half of them will stand by the
NEWS its life is assured. What do you think, Maxwell, of the
probability of such support?"

"I don't know enough about it to give an intelligent answer. I
believe in the paper with all my heart. If it lives a year, as Miss
Virginia said, there is no telling what it can do. The great thing
will be to issue such a paper, as near as we can judge, as Jesus
probably would, and put into it all the elements of Christian
brains, strength, intelligence and sense; and command respect for
freedom from bigotry, fanaticism, narrowness and anything else that
is contrary to the spirit of Jesus. Such a paper will call for the
best that human thought and action is capable of giving. The
greatest minds in the world would have their powers taxed to the
utmost to issue a Christian daily."

"Yes," Edward Norman spoke humbly. "I shall make a great many
mistakes, no doubt. I need a great deal of wisdom. But I want to do
as Jesus would. 'What would He do?' I have asked it, and shall
continue to do so, and abide by the results."

"I think we are beginning to understand," said Virginia, "the
meaning of that command, 'Grow in the grace and knowledge of our
Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.' I am sure I do not know all that He
would do in detail until I know Him better."

"That is very true," said Henry Maxwell. "I am beginning to
understand that I cannot interpret the probable action of Jesus
until I know better what His spirit is. The greatest question in all
of human life is summed up when we ask, 'What would Jesus do?' if,
as we ask it, we also try to answer it from a growth in knowledge of
Jesus himself. We must know Jesus before we can imitate Him."

When the arrangement had been made between Virginia an Edward
Norman, he found himself in possession of the sum of five hundred
thousand dollars to use for the establishment of a Christian daily
paper. When Virginia and Maxwell had gone, Norman closed his door
and, alone with the Divine Presence, asked like a child for help
from his all-powerful Father. All through his prayer as he kneeled
before his desk ran the promise, "If any man lack wisdom, let him
ask of God who giveth to all men liberally and upbraideth not, and
it shall be given him." Surely his prayer would be answered, and the
kingdom advanced through this instrument of God's power, this mighty
press, which had become so largely degraded to the base uses of
man's avarice and ambition.

Two months went by. They were full of action and of results in the
city of Raymond and especially in the First Church. In spite of the
approaching heat of the summer season, the after-meeting of the
disciples who had made the pledge to do as Jesus would do, continued
with enthusiasm and power. Gray had finished his work at the
Rectangle, and an outward observer going through the place could not
have seen any difference in the old conditions, although there was
an actual change in hundreds of lives. But the saloons, dens,
hovels, gambling houses, still ran, overflowing their vileness into
the lives of fresh victims to take the place of those rescued by the
evangelist. And the devil recruited his ranks very fast.

Henry Maxwell did not go abroad. Instead of that, he took the money
he had been saving for the trip and quietly arranged for a summer
vacation for a whole family living down in the Rectangle, who had
never gone outside of the foul district of the tenements. The pastor
of the First Church will never forget the week he spent with this
family making the arrangements. He went down into the Rectangle one
hot day when something of the terrible heat in the horrible
tenements was beginning to be felt, and helped the family to the
station, and then went with them to a beautiful spot on the coast
where, in the home of a Christian woman, the bewildered city tenants
breathed for the first time in years the cool salt air, and felt
blow about them the pine-scented fragrance of a new lease of life.

There was a sickly babe with the mother, and three other children,
one a cripple. The father, who had been out of work until he had
been, as he afterwards confessed to Maxwell, several times on the
edge of suicide, sat with the baby in his arms during the journey,
and when Maxwell started back to Raymond, after seeing the family
settled, the man held his hand at parting, and choked with his
utterance, and finally broke down, to Maxwell's great confusion. The
mother, a wearied, worn-out woman who had lost three children the
year before from a fever scourge in the Rectangle, sat by the car
window all the way and drank in the delights of sea and sky and
field. It all seemed a miracle to her. And Maxwell, coming back into
Raymond at the end of that week, feeling the scorching, sickening
heat all the more because of his little taste of the ocean breezes,
thanked God for the joy he had witnessed, and entered upon his
discipleship with a humble heart, knowing for almost the first time
in his life this special kind of sacrifice. For never before had he
denied himself his regular summer trip away from the heat of
Raymond, whether he felt in any great need of rest or not.

"It is a fact," he said in reply to several inquiries on the part of
his church, "I do not feel in need of a vacation this year. I am
very well and prefer to stay here." It was with a feeling of relief
that he succeeded in concealing from every one but his wife what he
had done with this other family. He felt the need of doing anything
of that sort without display or approval from others.

So the summer came on, and Maxwell grew into a large knowledge of
his Lord. The First Church was still swayed by the power of the
Spirit. Maxwell marveled at the continuance of His stay. He knew
very well that from the beginning nothing but the Spirit's presence
had kept the church from being torn asunder by the remarkable
testing it had received of its discipleship. Even now there were
many of the members among those who had not taken the pledge, who
regarded the whole movement as Mrs. Winslow did, in the nature of a
fanatical interpretation of Christian duty, and looked for the
return of the old normal condition. Meanwhile the whole body of
disciples was under the influence of the Spirit, and the pastor went
his way that summer, doing his parish work in great joy, keeping up
his meetings with the railroad men as he had promised Alexander
Powers, and daily growing into a better knowledge of the Master.

Early one afternoon in August, after a day of refreshing coolness
following a long period of heat, Jasper Chase walked to his window
in the apartment house on the avenue and looked out.

On his desk lay a pile of manuscript. Since that evening when he had
spoken to Rachel Winslow he had not met her. His singularly
sensitive nature--sensitive to the point of extreme irritability
when he was thwarted--served to thrust him into an isolation that
was intensified by his habits as an author.

All through the heat of summer he had been writing. His book was
nearly done now. He had thrown himself into its construction with a
feverish strength that threatened at any moment to desert him and
leave him helpless. He had not forgotten his pledge made with the
other church members at the First Church. It had forced itself upon
his notice all through his writing, and ever since Rachel had said
no to him, he had asked a thousand times, "Would Jesus do this?
Would He write this story?" It was a social novel, written in a
style that had proved popular. It had no purpose except to amuse.
Its moral teaching was not bad, but neither was it Christian in any
positive way. Jasper Chase knew that such a story would probably
sell. He was conscious of powers in this way that the social world
petted and admired. "What would Jesus do?" He felt that Jesus would
never write such a book. The question obtruded on him at the most
inopportune times. He became irascible over it. The standard of
Jesus for an author was too ideal. Of course, Jesus would use His
powers to produce something useful or helpful, or with a purpose.
What was he, Jasper Chase, writing this novel for? Why, what nearly
every writer wrote for--money, money, and fame as a writer. There
was no secret with him that he was writing this new story with that
object. He was not poor, and so had no great temptation to write for
money. But he was urged on by his desire for fame as much as
anything. He must write this kind of matter. But what would Jesus
do? The question plagued him even more than Rachel's refusal. Was he
going to break his promise? "Did the promise mean much after all?"
he asked.

As he stood at the window, Rollin Page came out of the club house
just opposite. Jasper noted his handsome face and noble figure as he
started down the street. He went back to his desk and turned over
some papers there. Then he came back to the window. Rollin was
walking down past the block and Rachel Winslow was walking beside
him. Rollin must have overtaken her as she was coming from
Virginia's that afternoon.

Jasper watched the two figures until they disappeared in the crowd
on the walk. Then he turned to his desk and began to write. When he
had finished the last page of the last chapter of his book it was
nearly dark. "What would Jesus do?" He had finally answered the
question by denying his Lord. It grew darker in his room. He had
deliberately chosen his course, urged on by his disappointment and
loss.

Chapter Eighteen

"What is that to thee? Follow thou me."

WHEN Rollin started down the street the afternoon that Jasper stood
looking out of his window he was not thinking of Rachel Winslow and
did not expect to see her anywhere. He had come suddenly upon her as
he turned into the avenue and his heart had leaped up at the sight
of her. He walked along by her now, rejoicing after all in a little
moment of this earthly love he could not drive out of his life.

"I have just been over to see Virginia," said Rachel. "She tells me
the arrangements are nearly completed for the transfer of the
Rectangle property."

"Yes. It has been a tedious case in the courts. Did Virginia show
you all the plans and specifications for building?"

"We looked over a good many. It is astonishing to me where Virginia
has managed to get all her ideas about this work."

"Virginia knows more now about Arnold Toynbee and East End London
and Institutional Church work in America than a good many
professional slum workers. She has been spending nearly all summer
in getting information." Rollin was beginning to feel more at ease
as they talked over this coming work of humanity. It was safe,
common ground.

"What have you been doing all summer? I have not seen much of you,"
Rachel suddenly asked, and then her face warmed with its quick flush
of tropical color as if she might have implied too much interest in
Rollin or too much regret at not seeing him oftener.

"I have been busy," replied Rollin briefly.

"Tell me something about it," persisted Rachel. "You say so little.
Have I a right to ask?"

She put the question very frankly, turning toward Rollin in real
earnest.

"Yes, certainly," he replied, with a graceful smile. "I am not so
certain that I can tell you much. I have been trying to find some
way to reach the men I once knew and win them into more useful
lives."

He stopped suddenly as if he were almost afraid to go on. Rachel did
not venture to suggest anything.

"I have been a member of the same company to which you and Virginia
belong," continued Rollin, beginning again. "I have made the pledge
to do as I believe Jesus would do, and it is in trying to answer
this question that I have been doing my work."

"That is what I do not understand. Virginia told me about the other.
It seems wonderful to think that you are trying to keep that pledge
with us. But what can you do with the club men?"

"You have asked me a direct question and I shall have to answer it
now," replied Rollin, smiling again. "You see, I asked myself after
that night at the tent, you remember" (he spoke hurriedly and his
voice trembled a little), "what purpose I could now have in my life
to redeem it, to satisfy my thought of Christian discipleship? And
the more I thought of it, the more I was driven to a place where I
knew I must take up the cross. Did you ever think that of all the
neglected beings in our social system none are quite so completely
left alone as the fast young men who fill the clubs and waste their
time and money as I used to? The churches look after the poor,
miserable creatures like those in the Rectangle; they make some
effort to reach the working man, they have a large constituency
among the average salary-earning people, they send money and
missionaries to the foreign heathen, but the fashionable, dissipated
young men around town, the club men, are left out of all plans for
reaching and Christianizing. And yet no class of people need it
more. I said to myself: 'I know these men, their good and their bad
qualities. I have been one of them. I am not fitted to reach the
Rectangle people. I do not know how. But I think I could possibly
reach some of the young men and boys who have money and time to
spend.' So that is what I have been trying to do. When I asked as
you did, What would Jesus do?' that was my answer. It has been also
my cross."

Rollin's voice was so low on this last sentence that Rachel had
difficulty in hearing him above the noise around them, But she knew
what he had said. She wanted to ask what his methods were. But she
did not know how to ask him. Her interest in his plan was larger
than mere curiosity. Rollin Page was so different now from the
fashionable young man who had asked her to be his wife that she
could not help thinking of him and talking with him as if he were an
entirely new acquaintance.

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