Robert Hardys Seven Days | Page 7

he
thought that he ascertained that by lifting off one of these covers he
could hear with greater distinctness the thoughts of the inhabitants, and
see all they were doing and suffering, with the most minute exactness.
He looked for the place of his own town--Barton. There it lay in its
geographical spot on the globe, and he thought that, moved by an
impulse he could not resist, he lifted off the cover and bent down to see
and hear.
The first thing he saw was his minister's home. It was just after the
Sunday evening service, the one which Mr. Hardy had thought so dull.
Mr. Jones was talking over the evening with his wife.
"My dear," he said, "I feel about discouraged. Of what use is all our
praying and longing for the Holy Spirit, when our own church members
are so cold and unspiritual that all His influence is destroyed? You
know I made a special plea to all the members to come out to-night, yet
only a handful were there. I feel like giving up the struggle. You know
I could make a better living in literary work, and the children could be
better cared for then."
"But, John, it was a bad night to get out: you must remember that."

"But only fifty out of a church membership of four hundred, most of
them living near by! It doesn't seem just right to me."
"Mr. Hardy was there. Did you see him?"
"Yes; after service I went and spoke to him, and he treated me very
coldly. And yet he is the most wealthy, and in some ways the most
gifted, church member we have. He could do great things for the good
of this community, if"--
Suddenly Mr. Hardy thought the minister changed into the
Sunday-school superintendent, and he was walking down the street
thinking about his classes in the school, and Mr. Hardy thought he
could hear the superintendent's thoughts, as if his ear were at a
phonograph.
"It's too bad! That class of boys I wanted Mr. Hardy to take left the
school because no one could be found to teach them. And now Bob
Wilson has got into trouble and been arrested for petty thieving. It will
be a terrible blow to his poor mother. Oh, why is it that men like Mr.
Hardy cannot be made to see the importance of work in the Sunday
School? With his knowledge of chemistry and geology, he could have
reached that class of boys and invited them to his home, up into his
laboratory, and exercised an influence over them they would never
outgrow. Oh! it's a strange thing to me that men of such possibilities do
not realize their power!"
The superintendent passed along shaking his head sorrowfully, and Mr.
Hardy, who seemed guided by some power he could not resist, and
compelled to listen whether he liked it or not, next found himself
looking into one of the railroad-shop tenements; where the man
Scoville was lying, awaiting amputation of both feet after the terrible
accident. Scoville's wife lay upon a ragged lounge, while Mrs. Hardy's
cook kneeled by her side and in her native Swedish tongue tried to
comfort the poor woman. So it was true that these two were sisters. The
man was still conscious, and suffering unspeakably. The railroad
surgeon had been sent for, but had not arrived. Three or four men and
their wives had come in to do what they could. Mr. Burns, the foreman,

was among them. One of the men spoke in a whisper to him:
"Have you been to see Mr. Hardy?"
"Yes; but he was at church. I left word about the accident."
"At church! So even the devil sometimes goes to church. What for, I
wonder? Will he be here, think?"
"Don't know!" replied Mr. Burns curtly.
"Do you mind when he [pointing to Scoville] saved Mr. Hardy's life?"
"Remember it well enough; was standing close by."
"What'll be done with the children when Scoville goes, eh?"
"Don't know."
Just then the surgeon came in and preparations were rapidly made for
the operation. The last that Mr. Hardy heard was the shriek of the poor
wife as she struggled to her feet and fell in a fit across the floor where
two of the youngest children clung terrified to her dress, and the father
cried out, tears of agony and despair running down his face. "My God,
what a hell this world is!"
The next scene was a room where everything appeared confused at first,
but finally grew more distinct and terrible in its significance. The first
person Mr. Hardy recognised was his own oldest boy, George, in
company with a group of young men engaged in--what! He rubbed his
eyes and stared, painfully.