December 1930
T h e
K i n g ’ s
B u s i n e s s
565
« i I i j
! m Sieart to 3ieart 'With
'Young¿Readers
— By Florence Nue Whilwell
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m
Purple ‘Where is he that is born King o f the Jews" (Matt. 2 :2) ?
S LTHEA and Elise were wishing that they could see round the world. There was much that was going on in distant parts of it— far o f f ! But ¡, they were thinking away around its rim, beyond kmany ridges of mountain irregularities; past shin ing waters that ran rapidly, cascading into rain- bowed falls or gliding into quiet places of shimmering silence; oyer great stretches of tossing waves; over them, until these waves were found beating upon other shores, bringing to mind the mighty scripture: “ The God of glory thundereth; the Lord is upon many waters.” The sunset sky into which the girls were gazing was color of rose near the horizon hills. Above that, an arch of gold glowed until it merged itself into the upper dome that was a translucent green, that was almost turquoise, that became at the summit of high heaven the deep purple of the reaches of the infinite, the color of the Majesty of the Universe. “ You’re thinking o f Harold and-John Dowling,” as serted Althea. Elise nodded with a smile. “ I never saw a brother and sister so close to each other as you and Harold,” Althea remarked after a pause. “ It’s because when we were children, missionary chil dren, you know, we had no one but each other to play with. Pauline was just a toddler. I’ll never forget our home made games on the beaches of the islands. Little sister came along later, and then— dear Mother left us, and Harold and I almost brought up Pauline. Then Uncle Alan returned from the outer islands so ill! He and Father decided that we children must return with him for our education. We never thought it was our last good-by to Dad.” : Elise paused. The wound was too fresh. It would not bear touching. “ And then,” Althea slipped her smooth bronzed hand with its tennis firmness into Elise’s palm and took up the tale. “ And then all of you came here to become everything to all of us of the Thin Red Line—Uncle Alan to be our spiritual father.” Elise squeezed the kind young hand appreciatively. After a while she- remarked, “ Pauline is with Constance, of course!” Both girls laughed. As soon as Althea’s Cousin Constance had appeared from Boston, arriving- after Thanksgiving with the Snowdons, Pauline had promptly capitulated. Her girl’s heart had found at last its ideal and she hesitated not to lavish' upon the astonished and diverted Constance all its treasure. And to be sure, Connie’s gray eyes were very starry, and she left her pure pale skin, which Pauline confided to Elise was “ exactly like a gardenia petal,” untouched by any artificial decora tion. Connie’s mouth was a scarlet flower above her dainty, indented chin, and her whole charming heart-shaped
face reminded one of a white velvety pansy, framed with a fluff of dark cloudy hair. The members of the Thin Red Line were very tender over Constance. She had been so brave in her Christian stand during the past summer in Switzerland! The hap py conclusion of all the Princeling’s questionings was one result. Eleanor Gorham and her changed life was an--' other. Early in November, Lawrence had come to Elise with a problem. “ Bill the •Brilliant’s father is just about dying on his’ feet of lonesomeness. Bill was all he had. I’d play around; over there myself but I ’m so busy this semester I haven’t time to get a hair cut!” ■Elise observed in well-chosen terms that she had noted and wondered at this tonsorial neglect. She even sug gested a boyish bob or a hair ribbon. “ Thanks. You never miss an opening,” Lawrence re plied. They then concocted a plan by which Constance and Pauline were to ask for the use of the unusually fine old library that Bill’s father had collected. “ Connie’s majoring in English,” said Elise. “ She can come and go a lot, with Pauline along.” And this is where Constance and Pauline were, while Althea and Elise were gazing at the sunset. “ And so William de Albini pulled out the Lion’s tongue and that is why his armorial bearings have a tongueless lion.” Constance was exclaiming! The silvery haired, scholarly old gentleman under the reading light nodded, smiling benignly. Constance, from her place on the hearth rug, was barricaded with battlements of books. They were piled all around her-—new and old books—William o f Malms- bury, Dugdale’s “ Baronage,” Henry of Huntingdon, Sax on Anals, and even Mathew Paris and Piers of Langtoft. Bill’s father held a rare old volume of Howard Memorials. Constance was writing a paper on the background, social and religious, of Adelicia of Louvaine, wife of Henry I - of England, and daughter-in-law of the Conqueror. She loved the old English records of long ago days. The a f ternoon had flown.- “ Are your presents wrapped?” asked Pauline as they hurried homeward in the soft twilight. “ Yes! I can’t believe it’s Christmas Eve, though! Where are the frost and snow and sleigh bells? Roses in December!” “ We must hurry,” suggested the practical Pauline. “ Aunt Margot wants us all out at 2220 Violet Vale Drive by seven. The tree is dressed; Mr. Wu has asked Pansy and: Marguerite.’’ Connie marvelled anew at the patient faith of the Thin Red Line which, recognized no social bar rier. .-L: 1;;; - buftimyt 'itsfo! f'HsJs
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