61
February, 1939
T H E K I N G ' S B U S I N E S S
Junior King's Business By MARTHA S. HOOKER
CHOSEN BEFORE H E KNEW IT
B y F rances N oble P hair Illustration by Ransom D. Marvin
T HE heavy door of the “Reginald Harvey Home for Homeless Girls and Boys” burst open. A blast of wintry air and a flurry of snowflakes seem ed to blow a big man into the wide, brightly lighted hall, as though the weather man were saying with a friendly slap on his back, “There, that’s where you belong!" The groups of girls and boys playing in the big living rooms seemed to think so too, for the big man was promptly sur
pocket. “Tommy," he said, “now that you have sold your papers, would you run an errand for me? I want to send this note to my wife.” The lad forgot the biting cold and his weariness, and he raised his eyes to the kind face above him with that straight forward, alert expression that had first won kindly Uncle Ed’s interest. Tommy trusted this man who often bought a paper and
by the glowing fire in their cosy little of fice. It was the unwritten law of the Home that every child who entered must come of his or her free choice. If he really wanted to come, he would be happy there and would help keep it a “Happy Home” for the other boys and girls. But this little street waif for whom their hearts were longing had neither parents nor friends to bring him to see the Home, and he himself did not know there was such a place. How
always had a kind word and sometimes a sympathetic question to ask. “Can you read the ad dress, Tommy?” "Fourteen T h irty -T w o Stonehurst S tre e t,” read Tommy slowly. "This is the way you find it,” and the man explained carefully which way to go. "He’s sure a swell guy,” said the boy half aloud as he sped th rough the dark streets. "He said the big gate won’t be locked till nine—I bet I can make it o. k.” Hurriedly pushing open the big iron gates, the boy ran nimbly up the broad steps of Number Fourteen Thirty-Two on Stonehurst Street. A bright light shone over the door, making clear
rounded by a happy crowd helping him out of his heavy overcoat, asking questions, chattering too fast to hear his answers, laughing with “Uncle Ed," and loving him with all their hearts. How long ago Edwin Marshall and his little wife had be come "Uncle Ed” and "Aunt Fanny" to the one hundred children who lived in' the Home, no one could quite remember; perhaps it hap pened when one of the early comers had made a mistake in reading the neat stone lettering over the front door and had called it “The Reg'- j lar Happy Home.” And “Happy Home” it always was to the children within its walls. Now, for a week, there had been one empty white
and bold the stone letters. Slowly Tommy spelled them out: “Reginald Harvey Home for Homeless Girls and Boys.” Then his eyes wandered to the neatly lettered words on the door: “Ask, and ye shall receive; Seek, and ye shall find; Knock, and it shall be opened unto you. Whosoever will may come.” Wonderingly he spelled it all out. He had never seen such words as these on any door before. He remembered suddenly— the letter! Hastily he rang, and swiftly the door opened and he was looking into the smiling face of the children’s “Aunt Fanny.” It was easy to accept the invitation to come in while she read the letter. After wards as he walked slowly through the darkness toward the old shed where he slept on a heap of straw under a ragged quilt, Tommy wondered whether what had followed could be a dream—that bright, beautiful room, the hot cups of cocoa and the big sandwich, and the apples, the few loving words about the wonderful picture
could he be reached and a desire started in his heart for a home with them? The low murmur of their voices ceased, and the man went to his desk and taking a pad wrote quickly for a few minutes, then folded the paper, slipping it into the en velope which he put in his pocket. The big front door closed quietly behind him, shutting in the warmth and cheer. Outside the wind still tossed flurries of snow into the faces of those who hurried through the streets. fr ★ ★ ★ * ★ It was still early in the evening, but Tommy O ’Brien was cold and hungry and tired. Those three papers he just could not sell! No one wanted to buy. “Paper, Mis ter?” he cried eagerly to the big man whose steps slowed up at his comer. “Yes—in fact I could use several papers this evening—could you sell me—say three?” "Sure!” Tommy was almost breathless. What luck! As the nickels changed hands, the big man drew an envelope slowly from his
bed in the boys’ dormitory, and every one knew that out in the cold, lonely outside world was some hungry-hearted boy who would soon know the joy of finding a place among them. “Have you got him, Uncle Ed?" cho rused half a dozen voices. Uncle Ed shook his head as he settled down in his big arm chair. "Not yet, but I think I’ve found him—now it's your turn,” he added with a smile. Heads nodded. Very well the boys and girls in Happy Home knew he meant they were to pray for that little stranger, chosen, but not yet inside the protecting walls of the Home. "What shall we sing tonight?” asked Aunt Fanny when they all were settled for evening devotions. "I think we better sing ‘The Ninety and Nine,’ ” said Paul, a serious, pale-faced lad who was always near her. When the song ended, many prayers rose to the Good Shepherd for that one who was still outside the place of love and shelter they had come to know. As the children of Happy Home drifted into dreamland, Uncle Ed and Aunt Fanny sat
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