515
B u s i n e s s
T h e
K i n g ’ s
December 1932
Ç^deari io Ç^feari uniti (¿)urY OUNG READERS . . . B y F lorence N ye W hitwell
when Serpentina had put out, as with a puff one blows out a candle, her own life. Maria was sobered. The sparkling challenge of her manner and her whole scintillating personality became softer. She, too, was more willing now to listen to Constance. “ I have not fully appreciated that girl,” she confided to Theresa. “ The other night at dinner with Dr. Trevelgan—- the cosmic something-or-other man— I began to see this. I wish you could have heard her! And him!” “ Tell me,” murmured Theresa. “ They discussed ‘the novel and emergent character of data’ ; and after a while, Connie said something about ‘the notion of time being a primitive concept, which cannot be analyzed, but must be accepted.’ By this time, I was almost in a state of mental collapse. And just before I passed out entirely, they put on the finishing touches by mentioning ‘exceeding objective reality’ and ‘data that was non-rational and yet indubitably physical.’ How can Franz Josef keep up with such a girl?” That young man, who was present, beamed, and said modestly, " , “ Oh, Connie’s just been reading a few of Dr. Jean’s articles, that’s all. She’s all right. She knows the score!” From which it will be observed that the Princeling was rapidly becoming American himself! % sfc s|e sjs Christmas up above the snow line! An old-fashioned Christmas, that was what it was to be! The Sumners had had the loan of a fine old house for Christmas. High up above the teeming lowlands of Southern California, it flung out its old-fashioned arms as though it were saying, “Come in ! Come in and rest! I am a bit old and behind the times, but I am warm, and bright, and roomy, and you may find peace here.” “ It makes me feel comfortable to look at it,” sighed A l thea Sumner happily, as they drove up to a colonial door, in the falling snow. A few minutes later, in a leathern skirt, a suede jacket, and an angora tarn, she was wading through real snow drifts toward the coasting slope. It was pronounced “ no slouch of a slide” by the boys. It was exciting, steep, swift, and at the end gave the tobogganers a lighening-like ride across the frozen surface of Buffalo Lake, which lay far below. “ How high up are we here ?” asked Donald Donaldson. “ What difference does that make?” replied Djemileh as she flung herself on the sled behind him. “We are just high enough and no higher. And if we weren’t as high as we are, we should be lower. Let’s g o !” “ All right! You’re telling me, Djemi! Give her the gun. Here we come!” And they were off with a dash that was nothing short of terrific. As dusk fell, Althea and Elise realized that the family would be looking for them. “ And are we hungry, or are we hungry?” queried Pauline. But Connie whispered, snuggling her glowing cheek against Pauline’s very cold little nose, “ Remember that my dear imperial mother-in-law-to-be ‘cannot understand the
Old-Fashioned Christmas “Blessed is she that believed: for there shall be a performance o f those things which were told her from the Lord . . . . And suddenly . . . . a multitude o f the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth- peace, good will toward men” (Lk. 1:45; 2:13, 14). T heresa and Maria were bewildered. Strange things were happening in the world. They had known for a long time that all they had been born to inherit had been taken from them. They had adjust ed themselves to that. But that was. not the thing that be wildered them. It was the great world slide, the tremen dous change. “ See this picture,” Theresa would say of an old photo graph taken long ago of Europe’s royalty assembled to celebrate the birthday o f thé good Victoria. It was entitled “ Europe’s Happy Family.” “ But war, death, and exile awaited nearly all,” Theresa sighed. “ What has happened to our old world?” “ Yes !” Maria would answer. “ And here in America, the Americans do not realize how much better off they are than any one else.” “ But Franz Josef is happy!” Theresa dwelt on it. Another blessing was the Sumner home. This and all that belonged to the Sumners was so abundantly and above measure spacious, and so hospitably open to them, that they stayed on and on. And' now here were the holidays! Shops were crowded with gay Christ mas color. The famed avenue of deodars was sparkling nightly, as if the stars had fallen down in a lustrous shower and lighted on their .branches. Passionate poinset- tias glowed in red beauty, and beside nearly every house was an out-of-door Christmas tree. How they glittered and shone, proclaiming to the passer-by that it was indeed “ Merry Christmas” in the great Pacific southwest ! Notoriety had fallen upon the Princeling with the ar rival of his mother, the famous Theresa. Even Maria by herself would have made any one famous. Her club lunch eons and her platform work were news items, always. Franz Josef was restive because he soon became aware that he and his relatives were moving in a different world from that of Constance. To certain houses,'she refused point blank to go, even though it meant a long evening alone with her books. From what went on at the affairs in these houses, the Princeling soon decided that she was right to stay away, He had no sooner come to this decision than his mother murmured in his ear one evening, when they had withdrawn to a moonlit patio to escape much that was distasteful, “ Thank God for Constance, Franz Josef !” He started and turned to his mother. “ Her social instinct—her sense of what is fitting and be coming seems always correct !” “ It isn’t entirely a matter of good taste with Connie, Mother.” the Princeling said after a moment’s hesitation. “ It is Christ.” He finally had it out ! “ She won’t go where He will be dishonored— I mean, where she feels a sense of separation from Him.” This was a new thought for Theresa. She mused long upon it. Then came the sad ending of Mona Lisa’s dinner party,
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