77
B u s i n e s s
T h e
K i n g ’ s
February 1932
QÙarll o d f e a r iw i t h YOUNG READERS . . . By FLORENCE NYE WHITWELL
character. How much we humans hate to be misrepre sented ! And so often now it comes to me that His sensitive heart is hurt infinitely more than our finite ones, by hav ing'His love and goodness caricatured. “ O Connie! How can they! The very wild Socialist student calls Him the Friend of man, or the Teacher of Nazareth, but real Communism hates His gospel, refuses His rule, and openly execrates Him. This is known every where, and yet the people whom one never would suspect astound you by suddenly announcing they are in sympathy with the Soviet Government. One old dear in a lace cap told me the other day that she was watching the Russian experiment with real sympathy and interest! Save the Mark! “ By this time you are on the point of calling in Althea, and telling her that I’ve become a really profound letter writer. But I have not! I’m just •stalling. There’s some thing I want to talk over with you on paper. I mean I ought to talk it over with you, because talking it'over with you will help me to do right—to see what I really ought to do. Only I don’t want to do it. “ It’s the same old problem with me, Connie—-just clothes! How I love them! They mean more to me than they ever can to you, because you would look pretty in any thing. Think what that georgette print, with the apricot slip, does for me! Think how that black and white scarf tied under my chin, with my white knitted toque pulled over my right eye, helps things! . “ W e ll! You see I ’m the same old Eleanor in spite of being a brand hew Eleanor. And now a new temptation has come in the form of a check, and an alluring sugges tion that I buy some gownjamas, of a sheerness, and of a dearness, for my very own Christmas, from Uncle Ed. And I’ve been and looked in my closet and pawed over the scenery a bit, and inspected, as it were, the new blue with the fur cuffy pieces, and that wonderful peach blossom boudoir outfit you sent me, and the gold metal cloth thing —which looks perfectly Babylonian, I fear—and honestly, Connie, I was ashamed. How can I spend this money on ‘a divided skirt negligee,’ which is as near as Aunt Anne
CLOTHES “ Consider the lilies" (Matt. 6:28).
^ ^ leanor G orham liked clothes. She liked a great many of them. She walked to her ward robe and pushed back the sliding door. Y e s ! There was a row of hangers, some garnished with velvet flowers or ribbons. These were not empty. Each one bore its burden of transparent velvet, georgette, or wool. Print or plain, pleated or draped, all the costumes that Eleanor possessed were attractive and in the latest fashion. Eleanor herself depended more than she realized upon her raiment. Her skin was fine and fair, and her eyes were clear hazel, but her face and form, because of their very fineness, particularly needed a fitting frame. And so Elea nor’s gowns and hats had come to be, on the college cam pus, real events. She held in her hand a check from Uncle E d ! “ Not so much as usual this year, dear girl,” he wrote. “ But enough to go and buy yourself some of those divided skirt negligees all the feminine world is wearing.” Eleanor laughed. Eleanor turned serious. Eleanor tap ped her cheek softly with a really sizable check. To spend all that for such a purpose! What would Cousin Elizabeth Pepper say ? This brought another laugh. And then Elea nor was at her desk writing. If she thought it all out on paper with Constance, it would help to straighten things out—and clear up some mental corners that were—a little dubious. “ And here I am in International House, old dear,” Eleanor began, “and mighty lucky to get in, as I ’m not a foreign student. O f course you know that all the student body are after this privilege. Dad told them it just had to be. It’s a wonderful place— rather palatial in outline and architecture. The great entrance hall runs up through three stories, and as you enter you see, first of all, a huge fireplace filled with blazing logs! The windows^ have the leaded panes that you and I like, and their embrasures make wonderful cozy corners. A dark Czechoslovakian was playing chess in one of them with a fair haired Swed ish girl a few moments ago. There is, you will see, a real fraternizing of nationalities here. Some of the darkest skinned faces seem to be the happiest at our assemblies. “ There is fraternizing, and yet there is unrest. We dare not talk over world conditions with some of the Commun ist sympathizers! You know how patriotic*your little cou sin is. I just cannot bear unpatriotic people. And these calm, cool creatures, who dismiss Old Glory as they fleck the ashes from the end of their cigarettes, appall me. And yet, Connie, it is everywhere! One hears it on all sides. Revolution goes hand in hand with refinement, and Com munism seems to take its deepest root in culture. Oh, the why o f it ! My eternal why, which I habitually fling in the face o f a deaf universe, was answered a year ago—you re member ! But the whys of all the other inhabitants of this great enormous International House are not! One hears Christ, who is my answer because He’s my Saviour, men tioned sometimes in the discussions, but never in His real
The Easter Number The March issue of T he K ing ’ s B usiness is one that you cannot afford to miss. Among the promised articles are the following : Easter Music—By J. B. Nield. The Fullness o f the Gospel — By Robert Excell Fry. El Shaddai— By Louis T. Talbot. Besides these, the words and music of a beautiful new gospel song, appro priate for Easter, will appear in this issue.
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