just rises up. I prayed yesterday for for
something, and it pretty near happened, but

"And you think your praying helped to make
it happen!" Mr. Leimberg drew Carmencita s
hand farther through his arm, and his lips
twisted in contemptuous pity. "You think
there is a magician up oh, somewhere, who
makes things happen, do you? Think "

"Yes." Carmencita s feet skipped in spite
of the clogging snow. "I think that some
where there is Somebody who knows about
everything, but I don t think He means us to
ask for anything we want just because we want
it and don t do a lick to get it. I ve been
praying for months and months about my tem
per and stamping my foot when I get mad,

89



HOW IT HAPPENED

and if I remember in time and hold down the
up-comings my prayers are always answered;
but when I let go and forget " Carmencita
whistled a long, low, significant note. "I
guess then I don t want to be answered. I
want to smash something. But I didn t pray
yesterday about tempers and stamping. It was
pretty near a miracle that I asked for, though
I said I wasn t asking for miracles or

"All people who pray ask for miracles. Since
the days when men feared floods and famines
and pestilence and evil spirits they have cried
out for protection and propitiated what to
them were gods." The Damanarkist spit upon
the ground as if to spew contempt of pretense
and cupidity. "I ve no patence with it. If
there is a God, He knows the cursed struggle
life is with most of us; and if there isn t, prayer
is but a waste of time."

Carmencita lifted her eyes and for a moment
looked in the dark, thin face, embittered by
the losing battle of life, as if she had not heard
aright, then she laughed softly.

"If I didn t know you, dear Mr. Damanarkist,
I d think you really meant it what you said..
And you don t. I don t guess there s anybody
in all the world who doesn t pray sometimes.

go



HOW IT HAPPENED

Something in you does it by itself, and you can t
keep it back. You just wait until you feel all
lost and lonely and afraid, or so glad you are
ready to sing out loud, then you ll do it
inside, if you don t speak out. If I prayed
harder to have more sense and not talk so much,
and not say what I think about people, and not
hate my ugly clothes so, and despise the smell
of onions and cabbage and soap-suds, I might
get more answers, but you can t get answers
just by praying. You ve got to work like the
mischief, and be a regular policeman over your
self and nab the bad things the minute they
poke their heads out. If I d prayed differently
yesterday I wouldn t have been looking for
for somebody all to-day, and be a jumping-jack
to-night for fear I won t find him. Did did
you ever have a sweetheart, Mr. Damanarkist?"
Before answer could be made Mother
McNeil s house was reached, and with steps
that were leaps Carmencita was at the door,
and a moment later inside. Finding that Miss
Frances had returned, she called to Mr. Leim-
berg to come for her on his way back from the
station library where he was to get his book,
and breathlessly she ran to Miss Barbour s
door and knocked violently upon it.



HOW IT HAPPENED

To the "come in" she entered, eyes big and
shining, and cheeks stung into color by the
bitter wind; and with a rush forward the hands
of her adored friend were caught and held with
a tight and nervous grip.

"Miss Frances! Miss Frances!"

Two arms were flung around Miss Barbour s
waist, and for a moment the curly brown head
was buried on her breast and words refused to
come; instead came breathing short and quick;
then Carmencita looked up.

"What oh, what is his name, Miss Frances?
He was found and now is lost, and I promised
I promised I d get you for him!"

Frances B arbour lifted the excited little face
and kissed it. "What s the matter, Carmen
cita? You look as if you d seen a ghost, and
you re talking as if "

"I m crazy I m not. And there isn t any
time to lose. He said he must find you before
Christmas. There isn t a soul to make Christ
mas for him, and he hasn t anybody to buy
things for, and he s as lonely as a a desert
person, and he doesn t want any one but you.
Oh, Miss Frances, what is his name?"

Frances Barbour leaned back in the chair in
which she had taken her seat, and her face

92



HOW IT HAPPENED

whitened. "What are you talking about, and
who is "

"I m talking about Him." On her knees
Carmencita crouched against her friend s chair,
and her long, slender fingers intertwined with
those which had suddenly grown nerveless.
"I m talking about your sweetheart, Miss
Frances. I found him for you, and then I lost
him. I ll tell you how it happened after I know
all of his name and If you had seen his face
when I told him I knew you and knew where
you lived you d hurry, you d "

"If he wishes to see me, why doesn t he
I mean " Sudden color surged into the face
turned from the child s eager eyes. "What are
we talking about, Carmencita? There is evi
dently some mistake."

"There is. An awful one. It s three years
old. And we re talking about the gentleman
Father and I met yesterday and lost last night.
You re his sweetheart, and he wants you for
Christmas and for ever after, and he may be
dead by to-morrow if he doesn t find you. He
came to our house, and I wrote you a note to
come, too, and when you didn t do it he looked
as if he d been hit in the face and couldn t
breathe good, and he stumbled down the steps

93



HOW IT HAPPENED

like a blind man, and we d forgot to tell him
our name, and he didn t know the number of
our house, and " She paused for breath and
brushed back the curls from her face. "I
know he s been looking all day. Where does
he live, Miss Frances, and what is his name?"

"If you will tell me of whom you are talking
I will tell you whether or not I know him.
Un^il you do "

"I told you I didn t remember any of his
name but the Van part. Don t you know the
name of the person you love best on earth?
It s his name I want."

Frances Barbour got up and walked over to
the bureau and opened its top drawer. "You
are asking questions that in any one else I
would not permit, Carmencita. I am sure you
do not mean to be "

"I don t mean anything but that I want to
know all of Mr. Van s name, and if you don t
tell me you are not a Christian!"

With a change of expression Carmencita
sprang to her feet and, hands clasped behind her
back, she stood erect, her eyes blazing with
indignation. "If you don t tell him where
you are, don t let him come, I ll think it s all
just make-believe and put on, your coming and

94



HOW IT HAPPENED

doing for people you don t really and truly
know, and doing nothing for those you do, and
letting the ones you love best be lonely and
miserable and having Christmas all by them
selves when they re starving hungry for you.
What is his name?" Carmencita s voice was
high and shrill, and her foot was stamped
vehemently. "What is his name?"

"Stephen Van Landing."

Face to face, Frances Barbour and Carmen-
cita looked into each other s eyes, then with a
leap Carmencita was out of the room and down
the steps and at the telephone. With hands
that trembled she turned the pages of the book
she was holding upside down, then with disgust
at her stupidity she righted it and ran her
finger down the long line of Vs. Finding at
last the name she wanted, she called the num
ber, then closed her eyes and prayed fervently,
feverishly, and half -aloud the words came
jerkily:

"O God, please let him be home, and let
him get down here quick before Miss France?
goes out. She and Mother McNeil are going
somewhere and won t be back until eleven, and
that would be too late for him to come, and
Hello!" The receiver was jammed closer to
95



HOW IT HAPPENED

her ear. "Is that Mr. Van Landing s house?
Is he home? He he isn t home!" The
words came in a little wail. "Oh, he must be
home ! Are you sure sure ? Where can I get
him? Where is he? You don t know hasn t
been at the office all day and hasn t telephoned ?
He s looking I mean I guess he s trying to find
somebody. Who is this talking? It s it s a
friend of his, and tell him the minute he comes
in to call up Pelham 4293 and ask for Miss
Frances Barbour, who wants to talk to him.
And listen. Tell him if she s out to come to
14 Custer Street, to Mother McNeil s, and wait
until she gets home. Write it down. Got it?
Yes, that s it. Welcome. Good-by."

The receiver was hung upon its hook, and for
a moment Carmencita stared at the wall ; then
her face sobered. The strain and tension of
the day gave way, and the high hopes of
the night before went out as at the snuffing
of a candle. Presently she nodded into
space.

"I stamped my foot at Miss Frances. Stamp
ed my foot! And I got mad, and was imperti
nent, and talked like a gutter girl to a sure-
enough lady. Talked like "

Her teeth came down on her lips to stop their
96



HOW IT HAPPENED

sudden quivering, and the picture on the wall
grew blurred and indistinct.

"There isn t any use in praying." Two big
tears rolled down her cheeks and fell upon her
hands. "I might as well give up."






CHAPTER X



OR a half -moment after Carmencita
left the room Frances B arbour stood
in the middle of the floor and stared
at the door, still open, then went over
and closed it. Coming back to the
table at which she had been writing,
she sat down and took up her pen and made
large circles on the sheet of paper before her.
Slowly the color in her face cooled and left it
white.

Carmencita was by nature cyclonic. Her
buoyancy and bubbling spirits, her enthusiasms
and intensities, were well understood, but how
could she possibly know Stephen Van Landing?
All day he had been strangely on her mind,
always he was in her heart, but thought of him
was forced to be subconscious, for none other
was allowed. Of late, however, crowd it back
as she would, a haunting sense of his presence
had been with her, and under the busy and ab
sorbed air with which she had gone about the

98



HOW IT HAPPENED

day s demands there had been sharp surge of
unpermitted memories of which she was im
patient and ashamed.

Also there had been disquieting questions,
questions to which she had long refused to
listen, and in the crush and crowd they had
pursued her, peered at her in unexpected places,
and faced her in the quiet of her room, and from
them she was making effort to escape when
Carmencita burst in upon her. The latter was
too excited, too full of some new adventure, to
talk clearly or coherently. Always Carmencita
was adventuring, but what could she mean by
demanding to know the name of her sweet
heart, and by saying she had found him and then
lost him? And why had she, Frances Barbour,
told her as obediently as if their positions were
reversed and she the child instead of Carmen
cita?"

Elbow on the table and chin in the palm of
her hand, she tapped the desk-pad with her
pen and made small dots in the large circles
she had drawn on the paper, and slowly she
wrote a name upon it.

What could Stephen Van Landing be doing
in this part of the town? He was one of the
city s successful men, but he did not know his

99



HOW IT HAPPENED

city. Disagreeable sights and sounds had by
him been hitherto avoided, and in this section
they were chiefly what was found. Why should
he have come to it? That he was selfish and
absorbed in his own affairs, that he was con
ventional and tradition - trained, was as true
to-day, perhaps, as when she had told him so
three years ago, but had they taught him noth
ing, these three years that were past? Did he
still think, still believe

With a restless movement she turned in her
chair, and her hands twisted in her lap. Was
she not still as stubborn as of old, still as proud
and impatient of restraint where her sense of
freedom and independence of action were in
question, still as self-willed? And was it true,
what Carmencita had said was she giving
herself to others and refusing herself to the
only one who had the right to claim her, the
royal right of love?

But how did she know he still needed her,
wanted her? When she had returned to her
own city after long absence she had told of her
present place of residence to but few of her old
friends. Her own sorrow, her own sudden fac
ing of the inevitable and unescapable, had
brought her sharply to a realization of how little
100



HOW IT HAPPENED

she was doing with the time that was hers, and
she had been honest and sincere when she had
come to Mother McNeil s and asked to be
shown the side of life she had hitherto known
but little the sordid, sinful, struggling side
in which children especially had so small a
chance. In these years of absence he had made
no sign. Even if it were true, what Carmen-
cita had said, that he that is, a man named
Van Something was looking for her, until he
found her she could not tell him where she was.

She had not wished her friends to know.
Settlements and society were as oil and water,
and for the present the work she had under
taken needed all her time and thought. If only
people knew, if only people understood, the
things that she now knew and had come to
understand, the inequalities and injustices of
life would no longer sting and darken and em
bitter as they stung and darkened and em
bittered now, and if she and Stephen could
work together

He was living in the same place, his offices
were in the same place, and he worked relent
lessly, she was told. Although he did not know
she was in the city, she knew much of him,
knew of his practical withdrawal from the old
8 ioi



HOW IT HAPPENED

life, knew of a certain cynicism that was be
coming settled; and a thousand times she had
blamed herself for the unhappiness that was
his as well as hers. She loved her work, would
always be glad that she had lived among the
people who were so singularly like those other
people who thought themselves so different,
but if he still needed her, wanted her, was it
not her duty

With an impatient movement of her hands
she got up and went over to the window. There
was no duty about it. It was love that called
him to her. She should not have let Carmen-
cita go without finding from her how it happened
that she had met Stephen Van Landing on
Custer Street. She must go to Carmencita
and ask her. If he were really looking for her
they might spend Christmas together. The
blood surged hotly to her face, and the beating
of her heart made her hands unsteady. If
together

A noise behind made her turn. Hand on
the door-knob, Carmencita was standing in the
hall, her head inside the room. All glow was
gone, and hope and excitement had yielded to
dejection and despair.

"I just came to beg your pardon for for
102



HOW IT HAPPENED

stamping my foot, and I m sorry I said what
I did." The big blue eyes looked down on
the floor and one foot twisted around the other.
"It isn t any use to forgive me. I m not worth
forgiving. I m not worth "

The door was slammed violently, and before
Miss B arbour could reach the hall Carmencita
was down the steps and out into the street,
where the Damanarkist was waiting.



CHAPTER XI




ATE into the night Stephen Van Land
ing kept up his hurried walking.
Again and again he had stopped and
made inquiries of policemen, of chil
dren, of men and women, but no one
knew that of which he asked. A blind
man who played the harp, a child named Car-
mencita, a boy called Noodles, a settlement
house, he supposed, over which Mother Some
body presided these were all he had to go on.
To ask concerning Miss Barbour was impos
sible. He could not bring himself to call her
name. He would have to go to headquarters
for help. To-morrow would be Christmas eve.
He would not spend Christmas alone or in the
usual way.

"Say, mister, don t you wish you was a boy
again? Get out the way!"

With a push the boy swept by him, pulling
on a self-constructed sleigh a still smaller boy,
and behind the two swarmed a bunch of yell-
104



HOW IT HAPPENED

ing youngsters who, as they passed, pelted him
with snow. One of them stopped to tie the
string of his shoe, and, looking down, Van
Landing saw Noodles.

With a swift movement he reached down to
grab him, but, thinking it was a cop, the boy
was up and gone with a flash and in half a mo
ment was out of sight. As swiftly as the boy
Van Landing ran down the street and turned
the corner he had seen the boy turn. His heart
was beating thickly, his breath came unevenly,
and the snow was blinding, but there was no
thought of stopping. He bumped into a man
coming toward him, and two hats flew in the
air and on the pavement, but he went on. The
hat did not matter, only Noodles mattered, and
Noodles could no longer be seen. Down the
street, around first one corner and then another,
he kept on in fierce pursuit for some moments;
then, finding breathing difficult, he paused and
leaned against the step railing of a high porch,
to better get his bearings. Disappointment and
fury were overmastering him. It was impos
sible and absurd to have within one s grasp
what one had been looking for all day and part
of two nights, and have it slip away like that.

"Come on. No use that " The police-
105



HOW IT HAPPENED

man s voice was surly. "If you ll walk quiet
I won t ring up. If you don t you ll get a free
ride. Come on."

"Come on?" Van Landing put his hand to
his head. His hat was gone. He looked down
at his feet. They were soaking wet. His over
coat was glazed with a coating of fine particles
of ice, and his hands were trembling. He had
eaten practically nothing since his lunch of
Tuesday, had walked many miles, and slept
but a few hours after a night of anxious search
ing, and suddenly he felt faint and sick.

"Come on?" he repeated. "Come where?"

1 Where you belong. The policeman s grasp
was steadying. "Hurry up. I can t wait here
all night."

"Neither can I." Van Landing took out
his handkerchief and wiped his face. "I wish
you d get my hat." The crowd was pressing
closer. He was losing time and must get away.
Besides, he could not trust himself. The man s
manner was insolent, and he was afraid he would
kick him. Instead he slipped some money in
his hand.

"Mistake, my friend. You d have your
trouble for nothing if you took me in. There s
no charge save running. I want to find a boy
106



HOW IT HAPPENED

who passed me just now. Name is Noodles.
Know him?"

For a moment the cop hesitated. The man s
voice, dress, manner, were not the sort seen in
this section, and the bill slipped in his hand
had a yellow tinge still

"I ve dropped my hat. Get it, will you?"
Van Landing threw some change in the still
gathering crowd, and as they scampered for it
he turned to the policeman, then caught hold
of the railing. A hateful faintness was coming
over him again. On the edge of the crowd a
girl with a middle-aged woman had stopped,
and the girl" was making her way toward him.

"What is it, Mr. Cronklin? Not one of our
boys?" The clear voice reached him as if at
his side. He steadied himself, stared, and tried
to speak.

"Frances," he said, and held out his hands.
"You ve made me walk so far, Frances, and
Christmas is "

In the snow his feet slipped. The cop was
such a fool. He had never fainted in his life.

Some one was standing near him. Who was
it, and where was he? This wasn t his room.
On his elbow, he looked around. Nothing was
107



HOW IT HAPPENED

familiar. It must be a woman s room; he
could see photographs and a pin-cushion on
the bureau, and flowers were growing on a
table near the window. The bed he was in was
small and white. His was big and brass.
What had happened? Slowly it came to him,
and he started to get up, then fell back. The
surge of blood receded, and again there was
giddiness. Had he lost her? Had she, too,
slipped out of his hands because of his con
founded fall? It was a durned outrage that
he should have fallen. Who was that man
with his back to the bed?

The man turned. "All right, are you? That s
good!" His pulse was felt with professional
fingers, but in the doctor s voice was frank in
terest. "You were pretty nearly frozen, man.
It s well she saw you."

"Where is she?" Van Landing sat up.
"Where are my clothes? I must get up."

"I guess not." The doctor laughed, but his
tone was as decisive as his act. Van Landing
was pushed back on the pillow and the covering
pulled up. "Do you mean Miss Barbour?"

"Yes. Where is Miss Barbour?"

The doctor wrote something on a slip of
paper. "Down-stairs, waiting to hear how you
108



HOW IT HAPPENED

are. I ll go down and tell her. I ll see you
in the morning."

"Where am I? Whose house is this?"

Your house at present . The doctor laughed
again. "It s Mother McNeil s house, but all
who need it use it, and you needed it, all
right. You struck your head on the bottom
step of the porch three doors from here. Had
it been an inch nearer the temple Pretty
bad knock-out, as it was, but you ll be all right
to-morrow. If you wake up in a couple of
hours take another one of these" a pill was
obediently swallowed "but you re to see no
one until I see you again. No talking."

"Sorry, but I must see Miss Barbour." In
Van Landing s voice was sharp fear. "Christ
mas isn t over yet? I haven t missed it, have
I? Are you sure she s in this house?"

"Sure. She s getting ready for to-morrow.
To-morrow will be the busiest day in the year.
It s Christmas eve."

Van Landing slipped down in the bed and
his face went deep in the pillows. Reaction
was on. A horrible fear that he was going to
cry, going to do some abominably childish
thing, made him stuff the covering in his mouth
and press his feet hard against the foot of the
109



HOW IT HAPPENED

bed. He would not be cheated out of Christ
mas! He had believed he hated it, thought
he wanted to be dead during it, and now if it
were over and nothing done Presently he
spoke.

"Will you ask Miss Barbour if I may speak
to her in the morning before she goes out?
My name is Van Landing Stephen Van Land
ing. I was a friend of hers once."

"One now." The doctor s voice was dryly
emphatic. " Lucky she recognized you. Rather
startled her, finding an old friend so unex
pectedly." Over his spectacles his kind, shrewd
eyes looked down on the man in the bed. "I ll
see her. Miss Barbour is an exceptional wom
an, but she s a woman, which means when she
knows you are all right she may not have time
to see you. At present she s outside your
door. That s her knock. Guess she s got the
milk."

With breath held, Van Landing listened.
Very low were the words spoken, then the door
was closed again. His heart was calling to her.
The long and empty years in which he had
hoped against hope, and yet could make no
effort to find her, faded as mist fades before
the light that dawns and glows; and to say

no



HOW IT HAPPENED

no word when she was near, to hold hands still
that longed to outstretch, to make no sign
when he would kneel for pardon at her feet
it was not to be endured. He would not wait ;
the doctor must let her in!

But it was not the doctor who was at his
bed. It was a short, plump woman of more
than middle age, with twinkling gray eyes and
firm, kind hands and a cheery voice.

"It s the milk, my son," she said, and the
steaming glass was held to his lips. "When
you ve had it you will sleep like a baby. It s
warm, are you and the feet good and hot?
Let me feel that water-bag? Bless my soul if
it s even lukewarm, and your feet still shivery!
It s no wonder, for they were ice itself when
they brought you in."

With dexterous fingers the hot-water bag was
withdrawn from the foot of the bed and Mother
McNeil was out of the room. Back again, she
slipped it close to his feet, tucked in the cover
ing, patted the pillows, and, lowering the light,
turned to leave the room. At the door she
stopped.

"Is there anything you re needing, my son
anything I can do for you?"

For a moment there was silence, broken only
in



HOW IT HAPPENED

by the ticking of a tiny clock on the mantel,
then Van Landing spoke.

"Yes." His voice was boyishly low. "Will
you ask Miss B arbour if I may see her to
morrow before she goes out? I must see her."

"Of course I will. And you can tell her how
it happened that you were right near our door
when you fell, and you didn t even know she
was in town. Very few of her up-town friends
know. There wasn t time for both up-town
and down-town, and there were things she
wanted to find out. She tells me you are an
old friend, and I m glad you ve come across
each other again. It pleases some folks to be