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Authors: Grace Livingston Hill
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look over the ground and see what she ought to do. As for Christmas, she wouldn’t try to arrange anything. Just get some good reading, go out perhaps to an oratorio or some good music somewhere, maybe to a church service, and wait until Christmas was over before she got in touch with her friends. They needn’t even know she was in town. They would all be busy in their own homes. It would be easy enough.
Then Cameron returned.
“Well, the lawyer will be in his office in three quarters of an hour. We won’t have much time to spare. What if we get you settled somewhere first. Had you decided where you want to go? Were you going to friends or a hotel?”
“No,” said Astra quickly, “I’m not going to friends till after Christmas. I thought I would see if I could get in over at the Christian Association. I used to hear that it was a nice place, and it would be convenient for the present, I should think.”
“Yes, it’s a very nice place, I understand,” said Cameron. “Suppose I telephone to see if they have any rooms, and then we can take a taxi over. I think you’ll be more comfortable during the morning to know that you have an abiding place, even if you decide not to stay there but a few hours.”
They found a pleasant room looking out on a little park, and Astra was quite pleased at getting the matter arranged so easily. Then they took a taxi and started out to get the business over with.
The lawyer was late, and they had to wait, and while they waited they talked. Cameron called her attention to a magazine article concerning some of the devastation that had been wrought in Europe, and Astra said she had been in that very region with her father three years before. She described the loveliness of the scenery around an old cathedral and how much she had enjoyed the view of it she could see from her window in the old hotel where they had rooms. She quoted one or two things her father had said about the mighty structure and said she felt as if an old friend had died when she read that the building had been bombed.
More and more as she talked freely, forgetting herself and losing her shyness, Cameron saw what a fine mind she had and how well she talked. But most of all he noticed the sparkle of her face in conversation, the deep intelligence seen in her choice of language, and the fine judgment and thoughtful opinions she had formed, not only concerning things political in Europe, but toward all general questions of the day. She was well-informed and ready with an answer that was not merely a childish conclusion of a youthful mind, but showed thought and a consideration of past history.
“You and your father talked things over together, didn’t you?” he asked as he watched her with interest.
Her vivid face had a flash of radiance.
“Oh yes,” she said with a wistfulness in her voice. “We had wonderful talks together, even when I was quite a little girl. But we didn’t always agree.”
“You didn’t?”
“No. We often had long arguments about things, continuing over several days. Dad was teaching me to think things out, I guess. He said he wanted me to be able to think things through and form wise judgments. I miss those talks we used to have. They seemed a part of me, and they had grown into a habit. For often now, when I have a decision to make, I just try to imagine I’m talking it out with Dad. And I can almost always see what he would be likely to say. It is like getting advice from him. At least it makes me see all sides of a question.”
Cameron was astonished to find a girl like this. Most of the girls he knew were taken up with wanting their own way; they formed their own opinions and thought it was smart. This girl seemed to have grown up so sensibly and sweetly with a wise father that she had come to recognize that experience counted for at least half in making wise judgments, while other girls dismissed their parents with a shrug as being behind the times and let it go at that.
Then Cameron returned.
“Well, the lawyer will be in his office in three quarters of an hour. We won’t have much time to spare. What if we get you settled somewhere first. Had you decided where you want to go? Were you going to friends or a hotel?”
“No,” said Astra quickly, “I’m not going to friends till after Christmas. I thought I would see if I could get in over at the Christian Association. I used to hear that it was a nice place, and it would be convenient for the present, I should think.”
“Yes, it’s a very nice place, I understand,” said Cameron. “Suppose I telephone to see if they have any rooms, and then we can take a taxi over. I think you’ll be more comfortable during the morning to know that you have an abiding place, even if you decide not to stay there but a few hours.”
They found a pleasant room looking out on a little park, and Astra was quite pleased at getting the matter arranged so easily. Then they took a taxi and started out to get the business over with.
The lawyer was late, and they had to wait, and while they waited they talked. Cameron called her attention to a magazine article concerning some of the devastation that had been wrought in Europe, and Astra said she had been in that very region with her father three years before. She described the loveliness of the scenery around an old cathedral and how much she had enjoyed the view of it she could see from her window in the old hotel where they had rooms. She quoted one or two things her father had said about the mighty structure and said she felt as if an old friend had died when she read that the building had been bombed.
More and more as she talked freely, forgetting herself and losing her shyness, Cameron saw what a fine mind she had and how well she talked. But most of all he noticed the sparkle of her face in conversation, the deep intelligence seen in her choice of language, and the fine judgment and thoughtful opinions she had formed, not only concerning things political in Europe, but toward all general questions of the day. She was well-informed and ready with an answer that was not merely a childish conclusion of a youthful mind, but showed thought and a consideration of past history.
“You and your father talked things over together, didn’t you?” he asked as he watched her with interest.
Her vivid face had a flash of radiance.
“Oh yes,” she said with a wistfulness in her voice. “We had wonderful talks together, even when I was quite a little girl. But we didn’t always agree.”
“You didn’t?”
“No. We often had long arguments about things, continuing over several days. Dad was teaching me to think things out, I guess. He said he wanted me to be able to think things through and form wise judgments. I miss those talks we used to have. They seemed a part of me, and they had grown into a habit. For often now, when I have a decision to make, I just try to imagine I’m talking it out with Dad. And I can almost always see what he would be likely to say. It is like getting advice from him. At least it makes me see all sides of a question.”
Cameron was astonished to find a girl like this. Most of the girls he knew were taken up with wanting their own way; they formed their own opinions and thought it was smart. This girl seemed to have grown up so sensibly and sweetly with a wise father that she had come to recognize that experience counted for at least half in making wise judgments, while other girls dismissed their parents with a shrug as being behind the times and let it go at that.
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