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ROBERT HARDY'S SEVEN DAYS.

A Dream and Its Consequences.

by

CHARLES M. SHELDON,

Author of
"In His Steps," "The Crucifixion of Phillip Strong,"
"His Brother's Keeper," Etc.







[Frontispiece: "He continued kneeling there."]




London:
Ward, Lock & Co., Limited,
Warwick House, Salisbury Square, E.C.
New York and Melbourne.
1899




PREFACE.

This story was first read by the author to his Sunday evening
congregation in the spring of 1892.  The chapters were given one at a
time on consecutive Sundays, and the way in which the story was
received encouraged the pastor in his attempt to solve the problem of
the Sunday evening service in this manner.

CHARLES M. SHELDON.

Central Church, TOPEKA, Kansas.




CONTENTS.


   THE DREAM

   MONDAY--THE FIRST DAY

   TUESDAY--THE SECOND DAY

   WEDNESDAY--THE THIRD DAY

   THURSDAY--THE FOURTH DAY

   FRIDAY--THE FIFTH DAY

   SATURDAY--THE SIXTH DAY

   SUNDAY--THE SEVENTH DAY




ROBERT HARDY'S SEVEN DAYS.


THE DREAM.

It was Sunday night, and Robert Hardy had just come home from the
evening service in the church at Barton.  He was not in the habit of
attending the evening service, but something said by his minister in
the morning had impelled him to go out.  The evening had been a little
unpleasant, and a light snow was falling, and his wife had excused
herself from going to church on that account.  Mr. Hardy came home
cross and fault-finding.

"Catch me going to evening service again!  Only fifty people out, and
it was a sheer waste of fuel and light.  The sermon was one of the
dullest I ever heard.  I believe Mr. Jones is growing too old for our
church.  We need a young man, more up with the times.  He is
everlastingly harping on the necessity of doing what we can in the
present to save souls.  To hear him talk you would think every man who
wasn't running round to save souls every winter was a robber and an
enemy of society.  He is getting off, too, on this new-fangled
Christian Sociology, and thinks the rich men are oppressing the poor,
and that church members ought to study and follow more closely the
teachings of Christ, and be more brotherly and neighbourly to their
fellow men.  Bah!  I am sick of the whole subject of humanity.  I shall
withdraw my pledge to the salary if the present style of preaching
continues."

"What was the text of the sermon tonight?" asked Mrs. Hardy.

"Oh, I don't remember exactly!  Something about 'This night thy soul
shall be demanded,' or words like that.  I don't believe in this
attempt to scare folks into heaven."

"It would take a good many sermons to scare you, Robert."

"Yes, more than two a week," replied Mr. Hardy, with a dry laugh.  He
drew off his overcoat and threw himself down on the lounge in front of
the open fire.  "Where are the girls?"

"Alice is upstairs reading the morning paper; Clara and Bess went over
to call on the Caxtons."

"How did they happen to go over there?"

Mrs. Hardy hesitated.  Finally she said, "James came over and invited
them."

"And they know I have forbidden them to have anything to do with the
Caxtons!  When they come in I will let them know I mean what I say.  It
is very strange the girls do not appear to understand that."

Mr. Hardy rose from the lounge and walked across the room, then came
back and lay down again, and from his recumbent position poked the fire
savagely with the shovel.

Mrs. Hardy bit her lips and seemed on the point of replying, but said
nothing.

At last Mr. Hardy asked, "Where are the boys?"

"Will is getting out his lessons for to-morrow up in his room.  George
went out about eight o'clock.  He didn't say where he was going."

"It's a nice family.  Is there one night in the year, Mary, when all
our children are at home?"

"Almost as many as there are when you are at home!" retorted Mrs.
Hardy.  "What with your club and your lodge and your scientific society
and your reading circle and your directors' meeting, the children see
about as much of you as you do of them.  How many nights in a week do
you give to us, Robert?  Do you think it is strange that the children
go outside for their amusements?  Our home"--Mrs. Hardy paused and
looked around at the costly interior of the room where the two
were--"our home is well furnished with everything but our own children."

The man on the lounge was silent.  He felt the sharpness of the thrust
made by his wife, and knew it was too true to be denied.  But Mr. Hardy
was, above all things else, selfish.  He had not the remotest intention
of giving up his club or his scientific society or his frequent cosy
dinners with business men down town because his wife spent so many
lonely deserted evenings at home, and because his children were almost
strangers to him.  But it annoyed him, as a respectable citizen, to
have his children making acquaintances that he did not approve, and it
grated on his old-fashioned, inherited New England ideas that his boys
and girls should be away from home so often in the evening, and
especially on Sunday evening.  The maxim of Robert Hardy's life was
"Self-interest first."  As long as he was not thwarted in his own
pleasures he was as good-natured as the average man.  He provided
liberally for the household expenses, and his wife and children were
supplied with money and the means to travel as they requested it.  But
the minute he was crossed in his own plans, or anyone demanded of him a
service that compelled some self-denial, he became hard, ill-natured,
and haughty.

He had been a member of the church at Barton for twenty-five years, one
of the trustees, and a liberal giver.  He prided himself on that fact.
But so far as giving any of his time or personal service was concerned,
he would as soon have thought of giving all his property away to the
first poor man he met.  His minister had this last week written him an
earnest, warm-hearted letter, expressing much pleasure at the service
he had rendered so many years as a trustee, and asking him if he would
not come to the Wednesday evening meeting that week and take some part,
whatever he chose, to help along.  It was a season of anxious interest
among many in the church, and the pastor earnestly desired the presence
and help of all the members.

Robert had read the letter through hastily and smiled a little
scornfully.  What! _he_ take part in a prayer meeting!  He couldn't
remember when he had attended one--they were too dull for him.  He
wondered at Mr. Jones for writing such a letter, and almost felt as
though he had been impertinent.  He threw the letter in the waste
basket and did not even answer it.  He would not have been guilty of
such a lack of courtesy in regard to a business letter, but a letter
from his minister was another thing.  The idea of replying to a letter
from him never occurred to Mr. Hardy.  And when Thursday night came he
went down to a meeting of the chess club and had a good time with his
favourite game: for he was a fine player, and was engaged in a series
of games which were being played for the State championship.

The superintendent of the Sunday-school had lately timidly approached
Mr. Hardy and asked him if he would not take a class of boys in the
Sunday-school.  What! _he_ take a class of boys!  He, the influential,
wealthy manager of one of the largest railroad shops in the world--_he_
give his time to the teaching of a Sunday-school class!  He excused
himself on the score of lack of time, and the very same evening of his
interview with the superintendent he went to the theatre to hear a
roaring farce, and after he reached home spent an hour in his favourite
study of chemistry in his laboratory at the top of his house: for Mr.
Hardy was a man of considerable power as a student, and he had an
admirable physical constitution, capable of the most terrible strain.
Anything that gave him pleasure he was willing to work for.  He was not
lazy; but the idea of giving his personal time and service and talents
to bless the world had no place in his mind.

And so, as he lay on the lounge that evening and listened to his wife's
plain statement concerning his selfishness, he had no intention of
giving up a single thing that gratified his tastes and fed his pride.

After a silence just about long enough for someone to make the
explanation just given, Mrs. Hardy said, speaking coldly, as if it were
a matter of indifference to her:

"Mr. Burns, the foreman, called while you were out."

"He did?  What did he want?"

"He said four of the men in the casting room were severely injured this
afternoon by the bursting of one of the retorts, and the entire force
had quit work and gone home."

"Couldn't Burns supply the place of the injured men?  He knows where
the extras are."

"That was what he came to see you about.  He said he needed further
directions.  The men flatly refused to work another minute, and went
out in a body.  I don't blame them much.  Robert, don't you believe God
will punish you for keeping the shops open on Sunday?"

"Nonsense, Mary," replied Mr. Hardy; yet there was a shadow of
une