128
April, 1935
T H E K I N G ' S B U S I N E S S
Beggarman B y . GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL Illustrations by Ransom D. Marvin
Time: Middlemorning o f a sunny spring day. Place: Fifth Avenue.
I will try to go by myself. Just count the steps for me and say if the door is open, and I will not hinder you.” T he G irl (W ith sudden determination). “ No, I am not afraid, nor in haste. Come, we will go. Lay your hand on my arm. Now turn so— lift your foot. It is not a long flight— but you look ill—you are short o f breath! I do not think you ought to g o !” B lind B eggar (Determinedly). “ I g o !” T he G irl (Looking up ahead as they mount). “ There are beautiful carved bronze doors. It is a pity you cannot see them.” B lind B eggar (Eagerly). “ How are they, Lady, closed and fast?”•..V. T he G irl . “ N o , one is standing wide. A woman just came out looking as if she had been praying.” . B lind B eggar (Excitedly). “ Oh, then it is not too late!” T he G irl (Curiously). “ Why
h e a i r is drifting full o f the breath of hyacinths and daffodils from the near by flower shops. People are wearing spring blossoms in their buttonholes. A general atmosphere o f happiness and keen relish o f life is in the faces that pass. Around a corner a blind beggar creeps along, a look o f purpose in his sightless countenance, tapping labori ously ahead of him on the walk with a stout w o o d e n cane. Approaching
from the uptown direction comes a girl with glints o f gold in her hair, and a discontented look about her rather pretty mouth. She wears a rich but simple spring costume, and a large bunch o f fresh violets that match her eyes. She is not enjoying the spring sunshine nor the scent of the hyacinths. Her gaze is far away, straight over the head o f the blind beggar whom she notices no more than a mote in the sunshine. T he C ane . “ Tap! Tap! Tap! A hollow sound! Tap! T a p ! Steps to the right! Broad low steps! Many o f them! Yes, steps. Wide steps!” B lind B eggar (Pausing and swinging the cane to the right till it touches the rise o f the first step, then tapping along its edge). “ Yes, steps.” T he C ane (O n the walk again). “ Tap! Tap! A lady close at hand!” B lind B eggar (Looking up and listening). “ Lady, is this a church? Lady, will you help me up those steps? I am blind.” T he G irl (Shrinking back). “ Why do you want to go to church?” B lind B eggar . “ Because I have only another day to live. There are things that I must do.” T he G irl . “ How do you know that? You have not been condemned to death, have you ?” B lind B eggar . “ Condemned? Yes—condemned. Con demned to death; but not by the law o f the land.” T he G irl . “ I might die tomorrow, too. Anybody might. No one knows. But it isn’t likely.” B lind B eggar (Turning his sightless eyes impressively toward h er). “ There is a doctor down in the miserable hole where we herd at night. He told me I had twenty-four hours to live if I saved my strength. I have not salved my strength! It is going fast! I have come a long way since sunrise.” T he G irl . “ Your doctor was likely mistaken. I will call an ambulance. You should go to a hospital, not a church.” B lind B eggar . “ N o , the doctor was not mistaken. He was a famous doctor once, before he let go his grip on him self. He knows — and I know ! and I must go to the church before it is too late. I f you are afraid, Lady, or in haste, Copyright 1931 by American Bible Conference Association, Pub lishers o f Revelation, and 1932 by J. B. Lippincott Company.
are you so anxious to get to the church? It is much pleasanter out here in the sunshine. In there it is dark and cheerless.” B lind B eggar . “ Because I am a great sinner. It is for this cause I am blind and poor and a beggar. I have only a little time left. I f one could find God anywhere, it seems as if it ought to be in a church. Lady— I was not always blind and poor— and a beggar. I was once young and good and happy as you are.” T he G irl . “ I am not happy. I am not sure that I ’m so very good— !”
The Girl
B lind B eggar . “ Be happy and be good, then, while yet there is time. I started just that way one day,— and look at me n ow ! What whim o f fancy clouds your life ? Some priceless bauble you can’t have? Or does the round o f pleasure pall upon you? You are a child o f fortune, I ’ll be bound. One touch o f your soft sleeve tells me the tale. I know good cloth when I can touch it, yet,— though ’tis many years since any came my way. But why should one like you be unhappy? Are you blind? Are you a sin ner ? Are you dying tomorrow ?” T he G irl (Shuddering). “ Come, this is the last step and then we are within. Shall I lead you to a seat and leave you to rest awhile? I could find someone from the hospital and send him to you.” B lind B eggar -(Groping). “ So this is the house o f G od ! Let me touch the wall. How wide and high it seems! No, Lady, do not leave me yet. You are unhappy; stay, and find some healing for your trouble, too.” T he G irl . “ ’Tis not a matter with which to trouble a God. ’Tis only a poor man that I love, and one with money that I cannot love, and I a pawn between the two. ’Tis nothing, I suppose, beside the troubles of a universe.” B lind B eggar (Laughing bitterly to himself). “ Ha! H a ! ‘Rich man, poor man, beggarman, th ief!’ My son is a thief! W e have all the others down there where I ’ve been, — ‘Doctor, lawyer, merchant, chief’ ! The Chief o f Police!
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