“ I know, mother. But the new floor Jf “ For you, Faith,” Daddy announced, and from the bottom of the now-almost- empty box he took a long, rectangular- shaped carton. “ Oh, it’s just the right size!” Off came the paper, off tumbled the lid as eager fingers reached for the prize inside. But it was not Faith’s squeal of joy that rang in the cluttered little room; Yvie’s face was transfigured as she reached into the box to draw out the beautiful baby doll. No one spoke as the littlest girl cud dled the doll in her chubby arms. But Mommy understood. She knew that, try as she might, Faith just couldn’t feel any thrill in what was, to her, just a cotton- filled body with a painted plastic face. Even the realistically-waved auburn hair could not change the fact that Faith had outgrown dolls—it was unfortunate, but there was nothing to be done about it. Suddenly, dashing the tears from her cheeks, she jumped up, throwing the disappointing carton to one side. She hugged her sister saying gaily, “ She’s your baby, Yvie—you’re the ideal little mother!” “ That’s the missionary spirit,” Daddy commented, and in one great swoop, he gathered up a huge bundle of Kleenex and with a flourishing bow, presented it to her. “ I guess this was for you, Faith,” he laughed. “ Dry your tears.” * Coming home from meeting oh the last Sunday morning of vacation, the family was startled by sudden shouts as a run away mule turned the corner into the cobblestone street. Hoofbeats were thun dering as people scattered out of the way. In the little mountain pueblo no one bothered to walk in the footpaths—why, when so few trucks ever found their way out over the dangerous mountain roads to the town? Daddy and Mommy called to the chil dren, grabbing the nearest three and rushing to the side of the road; Faith darted after Yvie, who had lagged be hind. Everything was a grand confusion; then people came running to the spot from all directions and Daddy and Mommy hurried to the crumpled bundle by the side of the road. “ What happened, Faith?” cried Mom my, bending down. “ Didn’t the mule gallop by without touching you?” “ Yes, he did, but as I was pushing Yvie out of the way, I must have slipped,” she moaned. “Well, I guess you did,” Daddy agreed. “ Praise the Lord nothing worse than a broken leg to show for it, too.” After they had carried her to the adobe, they helS a family council meet ing. “ We should get her to a doctor quick ly,” Daddy decided, “but how?” With Dick’s suggestions and Daddy’s labor, a camp-cot-stretcher was made— and suddenly they came straight up against a problem. What would they use to pad the fractured leg? There was no wool available, no cotton in the house Page Eighteen * *
and none to be found anywhere in the small town. The slightest touch of even the softest material was agony for Faith, who lay on the couch, watching the preparations with round eyes. Daddy stood in the center of the room, a perplexed frown creasing his fore head, trying to think of some substance that would not irritate, when suddenly, “ I’ve got it!” he cried. “ Faith—your Christmas present, remember ” Mommy and the other children, who had come running to the room at this shout,stood transfixed as he dove into the top tray of the big trunk and began bringing out handful after handful of the soft, white Kleenex. Suddenly com prehension dawned on Mommy’s face and she ducked into the recesses of the closet where the overflow had been stored. ★ ★ ★ A blind man sat at the corner of a street in the city with a lantern beside him. A man asked him, “Friend, why have you a lantern when light is the same to you as darkness?” “Why,” replied the blind man, “I have it so no one may stum ble over me.” ★ Soon the family gathered around Faith’s camp-cot-stretcher praising the Lord for His wonderful provision, as they tenderly padded her leg below, around and above with Kleenex. “ Not enough left over for a good case of the sniffles,” joked Daddy, when they had finished. Twelve Christian Indians who had been visiting at the mission station volunteered to take turns carrying the improvised stretcher over the narrow trails and through the rivers to the city. Faith found herself quite the center of attraction—providing the most excite ment the natives had seen for a long time—as Indian children, out watching the sheep and goats, would come sliding and scrambling down the steep slopes to get a closer look at this strange means of travel! Four days later, Faith came swimming up through the fuzzy, blurry haze of the anaesthetic and stared with a slightly cross-eyed look at the fat, white-band- aged object rigged up in front of her. “ It looks like a huge sausage,” she said, “but it might be my leg.” “ Yes, it just might be,” agreed Daddy, who suddenly came into focus, sitting beside her bed. She moved her head and there were Mommy and the four chil dren, all loaded down with smiles, flowers and books. The boys offered to autograph the plaster cast. Daddy reached into his pocket for his pen and instead brought out a tiny, blue cellophane-covered package. “Why, how did that get in there?” he asked, looking ★ ★
accusingly at Faith. “ Did you put it in there?” He pretended to examine the small box closely. “Well, it has your name on it, anyway.” Faith unwrapped it, lifted the lid and held in her hand a shiny, cold, very smooth object. She blinked; was she still asleep, and dreaming with wide-open eyes, or was this really a skate key? “ For me?” she whispered, turning it over and over in her hands. “ It’s not April Fool’s day, is it?” Dick reached under the hospital bed and came up with a pair of skates, which he dumped beside her. “ You can look at these until your leg is well,” he assured, with a wide grin. “ Then you can go out and break your other one!” Which every one, including Faith, seemed to think excruciatingly funny. “Where did they come from?” “ Out of customs this very morning,” Daddy explained. “And the letter that came with them said they had been left out of the box by mistake.” Faith’s eyes were shining with happy tears as she looked over at Mommy, and she smiled, caressing the silver skates. “ No, it wasn’t a mistake, I know that now—and I’ll never doubt again that God always knows best!” she said. “ He knew I’d appreciate these much more now than I would have if they had arrived in the box and He knew what He was doing when he sent the Kleenex instead—yes, He certainly did!” bless them greatly for their wonderful testimonies. God bless Dr. Talbot and his wonderful Christian knowledge. 1 have found much fruit in his Question Box. I love the Editorials too. M rs . E. A. T homy Ware, Montana “ BIOLA’s Own” We have always enjoyed The King's Business and especially when BIOLA’s own professors write. Such men are Mr. Ramm, Mr. Wessel, Mr. Feinberg, Mr. Padgett, Mr. Aijian, Mr. Lantz, Mr. Davis and Mr. McGee can’t write too often. Don’t let these professors go without honor just because they teach at BIOLA—they are the school’s best advertisement. R oy and P hyllis D ellinbaugh Shelton, Washington Even Old Issues Appreciated I think The King’s Business is a won derful magazine and has been a great help to me. I even go back and read again and again the old issues, the ones I haven’t passed on to someone else. M rs . W illiam D iggs , J r . Paris, Texas T H E K I N G ’ S B U S I N E S S Reader Reaction ( Continued from Page 3)
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