24
January 1930
T h e
K i n g ’ s
B u s i n e s s
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! j ! Si-eart to Sieart SSith Our Young ¿Readers I By Florence Nye Whilwell ,-.„«,,«►„¡1 S What Man of You Having an Hundred Sheep— ^ sV ° <
“ I f he lose one o f them, doth [he] not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it? And when he hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing.” —Luke 15 :4, 5. J LTHEA opened her desk drawer. The lowest drawer—the one least likely to be investigated by any interested parent. Yes, they were all i there! Row upon row of little white boxes £ sealed in tissue of a fine transparent quality! She had not yet broken the seal of a single box. She knew what was within and contemplated com fortably the number there would be of dainty white cyl inders of paper, said to be filled with the finest variety of a certain large-leafed plant, which, when dried, and rolled, and enclosed thus, would light at the end where the gilt top was not. Said gilt top being the end reserved for a certain imported ivory mouthpiece which had accompanied the gift. Althea had never gone in for these indulgences before. A whiff at a fashionable luncheon, just to show that she could, or a puff at some dance when her partner wished to stroll, had been the extent of her participation in this modern excess. But she felt that the time had now come for her to launch out. There were people whom she wished to “ show.” She desired not only to “ show” them but to shock them. Underneath this was the childish longing, unacknowledged to herself, to grieve them—to make them sorry. If she had explored this unstated de sire she would have been forced to admit that she wished these people to Yegtet1something. That they had given up her companionship because they desired to dedicate their lives entirely to Christian service. The implication Jiad been too obvious—her society was not conducive to Christian living. “ Very well!” she had said to herself, with a defiant lift of her chin. “ Let them g o ! I ’ll show them!” And with every repetition of this there had come a hardening of herself somewhere inside, only half-realized, that was finally to enable her to “ show” them. So on this Christmas Eve, surrounded by gifts, pretty, useful, valuable, or dainty—some of them all four— Althea found herself absorbed in this one present to the exclusion of everything else. And with this absorption came the decision to take the further step, that would con clusively define her defiance, and serve still further to “ show.” them. “ I’ll go to Buddy Lamb’s Christmas breakfast out at Bodder Lake,” she announced to herself, half aloud. And with this final resolve, and the social departure it involved in prospect, she went to bed. Deep sleep—as . deep as if she had really earned it, came to her. Dreamless sleep, that was broken only by the sound of singing. She awakened suddenly. The first words she heard were these:
“The hopes and fears of all the years, Are met in thee tonight.”
Althea recognized Lawrence’s high sweet tenor, and Harold’s bass. There were Elise and Peggy Snowdon and the rest too. S o ! They had come to her, had they! Well — she’d continue to “ show” them. She decided rapidly to lie perfectly still and make no sign. Let them think her away— sick—dead—anything they liked! She was going to get up soon and go to Buddy Lamb’s breakfast party. Then they would be sorry. Snap on the light and see the time! Certainly early enough! Well, she was young and strong and could stand the loss of sleep. “Come and adore Him, born the King o f angels,” caroled her old friends outside. She burrowed her head into a dainty nest of little pillows as a sudden recollection of glad childhood Christmases confronted her. It was called up by the splendid old “Adeste Fideles.” No! She would have none of that “ soft stuff,” She was going to Buddy’s breakfast. One more carol was sung through: “It came upon the midnight clear, That glorious song o f old.” The family were on the other side of the house and the house was large. They would riot hear them. She slipped out of bed and threw on that new Christmas dress ing gown. The singers ended: “And the whole world fling back the song Which now the angels ¡ring.” Althea seized the window, intending to slam it hastily shut. It stuck fast. A chorus of whispers came up to her. “ Oh, Althea! Come on with u s !” Then suddenly, the spotlight on Bill the Brilliant’s car—which seemed to have partaken of some of its own er’s brilliancy—was turned full upon her. She laughed before she knew it. Then sobering, she whispered back— a loud “ stage-whisper.” “ Sorry! Can’t come! I have an engagement.” “ Break it ! We need you with u s!” -Elise almost spoke aloud in her eagerness. Need her! More “ witnessing” stuff, probably! Per sonal work ! They need not think they were going to get her. She daringly called back, “ I ’m going to Buddy Lamb’s Christmas breakfast,” and slammed the window shut. That would settle them once for all! No girl who would go to such a feast—a Sophomoric Bacchanalia someone had called it—would be bothered by the evan gelicals, as she termed her old friends. If she had only “ Sleepy head! Time you woke up.” “ Come on ! We’ll wait! Attaboy!”
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