407
September 1931
T h e
K i n g ’ s
B u s i n e s s
^ } te a r i io ÇÜ teari imiti 0 ^)urY OUNG READERS . . . By FLORENCE NYE WH ITWELL
EARRING OF GOLD "As an earring of gold, and an ornament of fine gold, so is a wise reprover upon an obedient ear” (Prov. 25 :12). h e L emon K ing ’ s only child sat in solitary state. She was awaiting a committee. The committee consisted of certain members of a group of college youths and girls who had taken unto themselves a strange title—“The Thin Red Line.” “It’s rather an absurd name, it seems to me,” she observed, as the first committee member appeared.. “Not at all, when you know what it means,” replied Althea Sumner. “These last two years have changed you utterly! I told your mother last month I had hoped Europe would bring you back to your senses— back to your former gay, debonnaire self. But Europe did not do so.” “What did Mother say?” asked Althea quickly. “She had hoped so, too, she said, but was disap pointed.” “It is the strangest thing in the world to me that even my brother Bert’s fate has not made some differ ence in Mother’s feeling.” At this moment, two more members arrived, Lawrence Haworth and Elise. Lawrence was chairman and pro ceeded at once to business. “Connie is late—so is Djemileh. We will wait for them. And Donald Donaldson has taken Aunt Margot to the beach.” He turned to the Lemon King’s daughter. “We are waiting upon you today,” he began with that special dignified courtesy, which Lawrence’s intimates knew was reserved for those with whom he was very angry, yet resolved to be polite, and to preserve the fine Haworth tradition of chivalry to all women and honor toward all men. “We are waiting upon you today to ask the reason why you, a Bible believer, are criticizing Beatrice Guicciardi. She’s our friend, and a stranger here. We are willing to hear your side of it, although this does not imply that we have any doubt of her ourselves.” “This Lemon King’s daughter smiles as if she were tasting some of her father’s merchandise,” was Djemi- leh’s inward reflection, as she and Constance took their places, with a word of apology. The little Tartar had learned to keep these crisp comments to herself, though only after many an inner conflict, much prayer, and sev eral good talks with Uncle Alan. And indeed, the smile of the great citrus merchant’s offspring was a little me chanical, almost as if it had been turned out in some fac tory where smiles for all occasions were manufactured. “To what remark of mine about your friend can you possibly refer?” she inquired calmly. “You said, I believe, that she was unfit for ‘social uses,’ ” Lawrence replied with equal calmness. If the Lemon King’s daughter had a mechanical smile, what, oh, what was her laugh? Perhaps the crack T
ling of ice in coldest winter would describe it. She laughed then, and said, “And do you call her socially fit—you, Lawrence Haworth? Or you, Althea Sumner? With an uncle who is a felon? And her manners?” “What is the matter with her manners ?” asked Althea quietly, passing over the uncle for the present. “A girl who talks to strangers in shops, on the street, and in street cars! Who treats servants and newsboys and elevator girls as if they were friends! And you saw her the other day at the college club, when visitors from all over were present, stand up all by herself when ‘The Star Spangled Banner,’ was played. So conspicuous!” “Didn’t every one get up during the World War when that was played? And weren’t they hooted if they didn’t?” asked Djemileh, who could refrain herself no longer, “And as for speaking to servants, and so on,” Con stance took it up, “the Personage says that only those who are used to servants, and are therefore not afraid of them, dare to be friendly with them. The rest don’t know how— they’re just not used to them.” Constance did not realize how close to home this re mark went. But Althea repressed a smile. The Sumners had long known the background of the Lemon King’s family. The fact that he had started in the business carry ing boxes of lemons upon his back, and had gradually erected himself from the stooping position which that occupation necessarily entailed to the commanding, alti- tudinous one of Lemon King was well known to Althea. She refrained from any comment, however, and was be ginning a little prayer in her heart for the love of Christ toward this problematical plutocrat, when Djemileh burst forth, with the decided rolling of r ’s, which came upon her when she was especially moved. “Maria Theresa’s trusted confidant and adviser was an old charcoal man or something like that, whose good sense she valued—” “And Cousin Elizabeth Pepper always talks over Bos ton politics with the policeman on Commonwealth Ave nue,” Constance broke in. “Maria Theresa was not without some social expe rience,” this from Djemileh! “And Cousin Elizabeth really has known about as much of social usage as any one on this coast,” Con stance added. The Lemon King’s daughter was about to reply with a forcefulness appropriate to the occasion, when Lawrence asked gently, “Did you ever hear ‘condescend to men of low estate ?’ ” Yes. She had heard that. “How about this? ‘Hath not God chosen the poor of this world rich in faith . . . But ye have despised the poor . . . if ye have respect to persons, ye commit sin.’ Beatrice is trying to do personal work, to speak of Christ and His saving power to these people. Is she wrong?” There was no answer. The silence hung for a moment, for when Lawrence was using Scripture, his friends kept quiet, knowing that “the word of God is quick, and power-
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