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T H E K I N G ' S B U S I N E S S
June, 1938
Junior King's Business By MARTHA S. HOOKER
A STRING OF PEARLS A Story for Boys and Girls and Grown-Ups And again her father asked the question which she was not willing to answer, ‘‘Dor othy, will you give me the string of pearls?” Still there was no answer. By now it was well past Dorothy’s bedtime hour. Very tenderly her father gave her a good night kiss, and she hastened away to her own room. On the following evening, still wearing the pearls, Dorothy sought her father’s arms, hoping that he would have forgotten to ask for her beads. But no sooner had she poured out her love upon her father than the troublesome question followed: “ Dorothy, do you love Daddy?” Then, “W ill you give me the string of pearls?” The questions were repeated again and again as on the previous night, but there was no answer on Dorothy’s part, - only silence and a bowed head, for she; could not meet Daddy’s steady gaze into her eyes and heart. > The third evening passed as usual in the Goode household until the bedtime hour. Dorothy was a bit more thoughtful. She seemed to hesitate about going to her father, but his arms were waiting, and she soon took her usual place there. W ith her arms clinging about him, she whispered in his ear her heart’s love and devotion. And then came again the heart-searching ques tion: “ Dorothy, do you love Daddy?” , “Yes.’S “ Then will you give me the string of pearls?” And though there was no answer, Mr. Goode knew that a real struggle was going on within his little daughter’s heart. She did love her father, but the pearls were something she had so longed to possess! Again Mr. Goode began the question, “ Dorothy, do you love Daddy?” ' “ Yes,' I do, Daddy.” ; . “ Then will you give me the string of pearls?” 4
O H, MOTHER ! See what I bought today with the fifteen cents Uncle Joe gave m e!” cried ten-year-old Dorothy as she rushed into the house and proudly displayed a new string of pearls. “But they aren’t real pearls, dear,” Mrs. Goode reminded her. “ But they’re good imitations, Mother dear, you must admit,” replied Dorothy. So saying, she placed them about her neck and hurried out of the house and down the street to show her newest treasure to the neighbor children. When dinner time came, Dorothy was in her usual place, proudly wearing the pearls and waiting for her father to dis cover her new adornment. Of course he soon heard the story of the purchase, and as he did so, his face became a bit per plexed, but not a word was said that would show what he was thinking. After the dinner hour, the family gathered about the open fire in the living room for their usual family fellowship, and as the hour of bedtime drew near, Dorothy found her way to her father’s arms and lap, as she had done each night before, for her good-night kiss and love. But on this night as she was about to leave the place she so loved—her father’s arms—he stopped her as he asked this question: “ Dorothy, do you love Daddy?” “ Oh, yes, Daddy, you know I love you millions and billions,” she replied, as she gave him an extra caress. “Then, Dorothy, will you give Daddy the string of pearls?” Dorothy’s head rested on Daddy’s shoulder; there was no reply1. “ Dorothy, do you love Daddy?” “Yes— I— do,” she answered, hesitating. “ Then, Dorothy, will you give Daddy the string of pearls?” There was no answer. Again Mr. Goode pressed the question, “ Dorothy, do you love Daddy?” “Y-es, D-addy,” Dorothy chokingly re plied. Illustration by Ransom D. Marvin.
There were tears in Dorothy’s eyes by now. The refusal was costing her much. She thought she could not bear to hear the question again, when her Daddy asked once more, “ Dorothy, dear, do you love Daddy? W ill you give me the string of pearls?” Then bursting into a flood of tears which she could keep back no longer, she took from her neck the dearly loved string of pearls and laid them in her father’s hand. “ Thank you, my child,” her father said. And then, before Dorothy’s very eyes; he threw them into the open fire and the blaze soon devoured them! “ Oh, how could my Daddy do such a dreadful thing?” thought Dorothy as she sobbed still more. But all the while, Daddy’s right hand was reaching in his coat pocket, and soon he laid in Dorothy’s lap a beautifully wrapped package. “ It is for you, Dorothy; open it and see what’s in it,” Daddy said. Her body still shaking with sobs, Dor othy began to break the wrappings. Soon she came to a beautiful rose-colored leather box. What could it contain? Through the tears she looked up into her father’s face and smiled faintly as she dared to lift the lid. And then, surprise of surprises! There, encircling the dainty pink satin lining of the box, lay a string o f real pearls! “ Oh, Daddy,” Dorothy sobbed, “ are they really mine?” “ Yes, dear, these are genuine pearls. I have had them for you for several days. They were in my pocket the night I first saw about your neck the string of cheap, imitation pearls, but I could not give them
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