September 1931
403
T h e
K i n g ’ s
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THE RETURN o / i LTIDE A Serial Story . . . By ZENOBIA BIRD
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[The misdeeds and flight of her only brother, the sudden death of both parents, the failure of her father’s bank, and the final break with Nelson Barrington had left Marian Linton doubting and bitter until, in the home of Joyce Goodwin, she had been brought to trust again in God and to look to Him for needed employment. It was then that Mrs. Torrington, in calling to invite the girls to a party, had mentioned her cousin’s inability to secure a satisfactory maid. When the caller had gone, Marian suggested that she might fill the position. Joyce and Mrs. Torrington arranged with Mrs. Wolfe for an interview, which proved to be very successful; for, all unknown to Marian, a little act of kindness had been observed with admiration by Mr. Wolfe, who happened to have been traveling on the same train two weeks before. An agreement was soon reached, at a generous salary and with the privilege o f studying shorthand with Joyce one evening each week; and thus Marian found her way into the hearts and home o f the Wolfe family, at Farside Heights .] C hapter VI young Ed Torrington and his bride had taken possession of the fine old Wool- ston homestead a few years before, they had visions of a real ministry all their own. They had both been brought up in Christian homes of the old-fashioned sort, where “questionable” amusements had no part in the program of their young lives. They had not known each other then, but each had distinct recollections of the outward debate and the inward struggle of those teen-age years. They were married in June, a week after graduation, and almost immediately started housekeeping in the beau tiful old home which her father had presented to them as a wedding gift. Through all their college years, they had dreamed and planned for this time; and back there in those golden days, they had set up an ideal. “Clara, we will have a home that will make it pos sible for young people who want to be truly Christian to have the best kind of time and to meet other young peo ple in a happy, wholesome way,” Ed said earnestly, one night as they sat together on the wide moonlit veranda. “Yes,” Clara answered softly, “we could do that— make it our calling, as it were, a definite service for Christ. I used to think that Father and Mother were too strict, but I am coming to see that they were right. They said that Christians often do those things, but that I would rarely, if ever, find one who really loved dancing and cards and at the same time truly loved the Lord Jesus Christ. And, Ed, I never have.” “I didn’t reason it out that way,” Ed replied, “but I tell you, the best Dad and Mother a fellow ever had, said to me, ‘Lad, don’t do it. It 'will keep you from the finest Christian life, and that is what we covet for you.’ That was enough for me. But it cost sometimes, and we can do something to make it easier for other young folk. We will, won’t we?” “Yes,” murmured the girl, “we will.” So the new home was built on a definite plan, and from its very beginning, Christian friendliness was a chief cornerstone. The young Torringtons were blessed with plenty of means, but while they kept open house and h en
entertained freely, their hospitality was singularly free from ostentation. They often had little groups of friends for their evenings “at home,” but the evening on which Joyce Good win was to give her reading was one of the larger affairs. On these occasions, a deliberate effort was made to bring together young people who were strangers to each other. There would be the usual group of college students from the near-by university, where Mr. Torrington’s brother was student pastor. And the presence of the college boys usually guaranteed plenty of other young guests. Joyce Goodwin and Marian Linton came in together, Marian radiantly beautiful in a softly clinging gown of rosy chiffon, while Joyce’s frock of powder blue showed her blonde beauty at its best. The weeks in Mrs. Wolfe’s home had wrought won ders in Marian. She was quietly happy at times. Her study of shorthand was progressing well, and she was fas cinated with it. Her visit with the Goodwin family each week gave a touch of home life that meant everything to the lonely girl. It had taken considerable persuasion to get her to come to this affair at all, but once the decision was reached, she entered into it with her whole soul. Joyce and her mother were delighted; only the father’s deeper discernment saw, pityingly, that underneath there was still the hot rebellious young heart that had not yet made surrender. It had only called a truce. But a truce it was to be tonight. With the same self-mastery, the same deliberate pur pose with which she had turned away from all her old circle of friends, she set about to capture this new group. Here were all these charming people who knew nothing of her bitter humiliation, her grief, and loss. They would never know it from h e r! From the moment she tripped into the house, Marian Linton was like a different person. She fairly glowed and sparkled. Her wit and vivacity, her merry repartee with out a suggestion of sting in it, and her sweet charm and graciousness, impartially bestowed, fairly captured all whom she met. She seemed to have stepped in a single hour from the unknown to the height of popularity. A weaker girl would have had her head turned completely, but Marian was unconscious of the impression she was making. There were low-voiced questions here and there, “Who is she ?” and “Where did she come from ?” It was natural that a group of college boys should drift in her direction, and with them Dick Burling, giant young football star and world traveler. It was also in evitable that envious glances should be directed her way, and occasionally, at a safe distance, a spiteful little whis per, “Yes, she’s pretty, and she knows it.” When the guests had wandered about the grounds for an hour or more, the first strains sounded from the grand piano, and all began gathering in from the veranda and lawn. The man at the piano was a master. The guests crowded closer, held spellbound by the music which tripped and rippled, which thundered and poured from
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