When Mrs. Demier returned home at seven o’clock with Carol, she was astonished at not finding Patrick in the apartment; a note pinned up in the kitchen bore these words: “I am spending the day with Simon.” She prepared supper, waiting till eight o’clock to put it on the table. Towards nine, getting impatient, she went down to her neighbor’s to telephone the Hotel of the Golden Lion.
Simon’s mother answered the phone. “How is it that Patrick has not come home?” asked Mrs. Demier. “Is he still with you?”
“But he hasn’t been here!” cried Mrs. Conty. “Simon left word that he was invited by your son. I was getting anxious about him.”
Mrs. Demier told her of Patrick’s note.
“Ah!” lamented the proprietress, “these boys have played us a trick. Simon takes advantage of my husband’s illness and of the hectic life we live here. He escapes every hour of the day; I can’t control him. It’s quite certain I’ll have to put him in an institution.”
“To whom can we go to find our boys?” queried Mrs. Demier anxiously.
“They are no doubt with other companions,” replied Mrs. Conty. “I distrust that Cyril whom Simon has been bringing home for some time. I don’t approve of him and have told Simon so; he has a bad influence on him.”
“I don’t know him; Patrick has never mentioned him to me. My son is so reserved, and I am so engrossed with my work, that we scarcely speak together of late.”
“I’ll phone Cyril’s home and let you know as soon as I have news.”
At ten o’clock the boys had not returned. Mrs. Demier contacted the police and learned that three families had already announced the disappearance of their sons, and that this seemed to correspond with the theft of a car, and they were searching high and low to find the delinquents. Sick at heart, Mrs. Demier passed the news on to Carol.
“How unwise of me to leave Patrick here alone!” she cried. “The railway fare was so high, and he did not seem to care about going with me. I felt sure I could trust him. Why should I have to bring up a fatherless boy? What have I done, oh God, to bring on myself so many misfortunes?”
“You should really go to bed, Mommy,” advised Carol; “what is the use of waiting up? It’s no use getting upset; it won’t bring Patrick back any sooner.”
“Let me be, Carol; I could not possibly sleep. But you, go to bed, dear. I’ll wake you if necessary.”
“No, Mother, I shall stay with you,” said the young girl firmly. A long silence followed. Mrs. Demier, her head in her hands, wept silently; the least sound made her start. More than once she went to the door, then opened a window and leaned out to search the road for some sign of arrivals. A piercing wind swept into the little room, and the two shivering watchers closed the shutters again and sat down sorrowfully.
“Mother,” said Carol suddenly; “do you believe that God answers prayer?”
“I hope so; but you see, Carol, I can’t pray. You do it; perhaps God will hear you. I feel too far off from Him.”
At this moment the entrance bell rang gently; springing up, Mrs. Demier went to the door. A stranger with a sweet smile held out her hand.
“Mrs. Demier, I think?” she said; “I am the wife of Dr. Garnier. My husband was called to attend to your son and his companions who had been in a car accident in the Jura; I don’t know any details. Some of them were injured, but they were all brought back and are in good hands. As you have no phone, I have come to give you the news.”
“Thank you,” said Patrick’s mother, unable to keep back her tears. “Come in a minute, do please. You are very good to come out like this in the middle of the night.”
“I am a mother, so I understand your anxiety.” There was so much sympathy and kindness in the lady’s eyes and voice that Mrs. Demier did not hesitate to tell her of the problems regarding Patrick’s changed behavior since they had left their old home.
“I liked your son very much when he used to come to see John; it is a sad turn of affairs,” said Mrs. Garnier. “He has suffered in many ways, particularly in seeing us installed in your house. This explains his attitude of revolt, but it’s not too late for him to change. Shall we pray that this dreadful escapade will transform your boy?”
The prayer offered by Mrs. Garnier remained as if engraved in Carol’s heart. It was not a form of words, conventional, impersonal, but a real heart-cry, a pleading with an intimate Friend, One full of love and power, on Whom they could depend entirely. God now seemed very near, quite a different God from Carol’s previous conception of Him.
“Try to take a little rest before you go to the hospital,” said Mrs. Garnier as she left. “You’ll need all your strength; save it up for tomorrow.”
Calmer now, Carol and her mother were able to sleep. Before dozing off, Carol thought suddenly of the stranger’s little Testament; she would try to find it. Perhaps she would discover there Mrs. Garnier’s God.