AN ENTREATY
Helen uttered an exclamation, then moved toward Mr. Ko. He read the
expression of her face quickly.
"You know him?" he asked.
"I do not know him, but I have seen him. He was on the sampan with us
after we left Han-Kang."
"Why, he did not tell me that! He only said that he had seen the
honorable teacher and that he was coming. But no matter," continued Mr.
Ko, and looking encouragingly toward the man. "He did not tell me
because he had some reason not to. It is all right," he added
cheerfully. "You may go on with the cooking."
"I know him," he said, turning again to Helen. "He was my neighbor in
Seoul two years ago. He is a good sort of fellow, only there seems to be
something on his mind. I don't understand that. Never did."
A deep perplexity now came to Helen. She could not decide whether or not
to let the others know of the presence of the man at Mr. Ko's. She
finally reached the decision to tell her father and Clarence and maybe
Dorothy. There was, perhaps, after all, nothing wrong about the man. He
had really done nothing to arouse their suspicions, only remained silent
and sullen when he was questioned. She knew that her father believed
that he had merely been stealing a ride. The only mysterious thing about
him at present was his having so swiftly preceded them to Mr. Ko's. She
afterward learned that he had fallen in with another sampan almost as
soon as he had left them, and had worked his way up the river. While
they lingered at the villages he had traveled.
Though Mr. Ko had adopted some of the ways of civilization, he still ate
very much after the Korean fashion. Thus when they sat down to supper it
was at little round tables not more than a foot or a foot and a half
high. Instead of cloths, they were covered with sheets of glazed paper.
Rice was the principal diet. It was set in an earthenware bowl near the
center of each table. In addition there was a soup of beef and onions
thickened with barley, a batter bread made of flour and oil and a slight
sprinkling of sugar, chicken curry, eggs, and rice fritters. Mr. Ko also
had tea, a rarity for the rural districts of Korea.
As Mr. Ko, Mr. Kit-ze, and Mr. Chefoo ate, they made a great noise with
their mouths. This was done to show their appreciation of the viands,
for in Korea, the greater the noise made while eating, the more
forcefully defined is the compliment to the food.
Mr. Ko's house was much better than that of the average farmer. It was
built of poles, mud-daubed, but the walls of the principal rooms were
covered with paper. There were little windows of thick glazed paper
while the doors were set in frames of light bamboo. The sleeping
arrangements consisted principally of mats with blocks of wood for
pillows. In the winter the beds were made over the brick flues that ran
through the rooms connected with the great oven where the baking was
done. Thus, in winter, to sleep in a Korean house means to roast and
freeze by turns, for while the fire is kept up it is hot indeed, and
when it is allowed to go out then "cold as a stone" gives the literal
condition of a brick bed.
The house stood in a grove of mulberries, for to his other pursuits Mr.
Ko added that of silkworm raising. There were clumps too, of the walnut
and persimmon, with vines of the white and yellow clematis tangled amid
their branches. Here the birds built, and here they poured forth their
morning songs or chattered to their mates as they were going to bed at
night. In front were the fields of wheat and barley, and farther down,
in the very heart of the valley, the crops of rice. As it was near the
end of April, the barley was already in ear and beginning to take on its
russet coloring.
Mr. Ko, being an old bachelor, there were only men about the house. He
had a saying with reference to which Clarence teased Helen and Dorothy
rather unmercifully. It was to the effect that where there were women
there was sure to be trouble.
"Oh, but Mr. Ko likes girls!" asserted Helen. "You can't make me believe
otherwise, Master Clarence. He and I have been too long good friends."
"What was that I heard him say last night?" asked Dorothy, a mischievous
light in her eyes, "about sons and how they were like dragon's teeth in
the sides of their parents?"
Clarence looked rather sheepish at this quick turning of the tables on
himself, and in a moment or so dexterously changed the conversation.
On the following day, which was the Sabbath, two services were held in
Mr. Ko's mulberry grove. At the first not many were present, but by
afternoon scores had flocked to the place from the neighboring farms and
from the village. Curiosity was plainly depicted on all the faces, but
as Mr. Reid proceeded, it changed to eager attention on the part of
several. Mr. Chefoo made a good interpreter. He was both careful and
earnest. Already the sweet, simple truths the missionary taught were
beginning to make their appeal to his own heart. It was the old story of
Jesus and his sweet ministrations to men, his sympathy for them, his
understanding of their needs, the great, warm, deep love that took in
all, even the poorest and humblest.
"And this Jesus is the same now as then," continued the missionary. "He
is waiting to enter each heart and to possess it, to have our lives
drawn nearer to his own, to bestow upon us the sweet knowledge of that
companionship with him that may be ours through all the way."
The services were barely concluded when Mr. Kit-ze came to ask
questions. Gladness was in Mr. Reid's heart as he saw the moved,
wondering look upon the boatman's face. He wanted to know if this Jesus,
who could do so much for men, who wanted to be their friend, was very
rich and powerful? Could he bestow honor and wealth as well as
friendship?
Mr. Kit-ze was told that the provisions of honor and wealth did not
enter into Jesus' plans for the happiness of his people. He himself had
shown his condemnation of the grasping hand, the covetous heart, by
declaring that he who desired to be the greatest should be the least of
all and servant to all.
"But he gives that to us which is better than all the honor and riches
of earth," continued Mr. Reid; "he gives us contentment of life and
peace of heart. Would not you think these far better than money or land,
my friend?"
Mr. Kit-ze did not know. He had thought that it would indeed be a very
fine thing to possess land and cattle and so comfortable a home as that
of Mr. Ko.
This, then, had been the thought uppermost with Mr. Kit-ze when
contemplating the character of Jesus, the Divine Friend, and the thought
of the possible worldly elevation the friendship might bring him. The
missionary felt a deep pain at his heart as he realized whither Mr.
Kit-ze's thoughts had led him. But at the same time there was something
in his attitude to inspire hope. Mr. Kit-ze had been impressed. That
was plainly evident. His mind was in a deep whirl of thought. Other and
better things would surely be evolved from it in the end. Many times
during that day he made fervent petition for Mr. Kit-ze.
Mr. Kit-ze's perplexity increased as one thought after another came to
him. The exalted teacher had not answered as he had hoped. All was still
so uncertain, so unsatisfactory. Ah, now he knew what he would do! He
would go to the daughter of the honorable teacher, to her who had the
soft voice, the gentle ways, the kind heart. She could make it plain,
she would tell it so that it would reach his understanding.
Helen's heart leaped as Mr. Kit-ze asked her the questions. She could
see how deeply in earnest he was. Oh, could it be that he was at last
awakened, that he would search until he had found the truth, would
accept Jesus as the one faithful Friend? His first and second questions
aroused these thoughts; but the third, how it disturbed her, as it had
also disturbed her father. It was the same question about earthly honor
and wealth.
"Dear Mr. Kit-ze," said Helen, taking his hand, and at that moment he
felt that he would have done anything for her, "those who truly love
Jesus, who have taken him as their Friend, do not think of such things
in connection with what Jesus does for them. They know that whatever is
best for them he will send, that whatever of good gifts they will use
happily, he will bestow. But further than this they do not go, for, Mr.
Kit-ze, when once we have taken Jesus, we must trust him for everything.
We must not question or ask him for this thing or the other. Thus, Mr.
Kit-ze, if you had a worldly friend, one in whom you believed with all
the mind, in whom you trusted with all the heart, would you not
willingly follow that friend wherever he bade you go and take everything
from him as meant for your good?"
"Oh, yes," said Mr. Kit-ze, "oh, yes."
"Well, thus it is with Jesus. When we take him for our Friend, truly
take him, we do not require anything of him. We leave all that to him
and only trust him. He loves us. Oh, how he loves, Mr. Kit-ze! He is the
truest lover in all the world. Could he, or would he, then, do aught
else but what is best for the one beloved?"
"Oh, daughter of the exalted teacher," said the boatman, his voice
tremulous with some new-found emotion, "you have put that into Mr.
Kit-ze's heart which will make him think, think!" He went away with his
hand still pressed upon his heart and murmuring to himself.
Helen had told her father of the presence of the stowaway in Mr. Ko's
kitchen, and of her great surprise at finding him there.
"Oh, I suppose there isn't anything mysterious about it, Helen," her
father made answer; "nothing to be dreaded from him, I know. He looked
inoffensive enough, though sullen, and you remember we didn't find
anything on his person. I am only astonished at the rapidity with which
he has made his way up the river; but from what you have since learned
and have told me, that too is clear."
Helen was glad her father took the man's presence in this way. She
really felt sorry for the poor fellow. He had looked at her so
pathetically the evening before ere she left the kitchen with Mr. Ko,
and had murmured something in which she caught the words, "No harm, no
harm." His eyes had not then the burning look she had noticed when they
were fixed upon Mr. Kit-ze. Instead, they were soft and pleading.
She was ready now to tell Clarence and Dorothy. They had walked down to
the bluff for a view of the river and of the track of the setting sun as
it moved across the water like some golden-freighted craft.
Clarence, boylike, whistled his astonishment at the communication. "Why,
Helen, how did he ever manage to get here so far ahead of us?" he asked
at length. "It seems almost incredible."
"On a sampan, as I have told you Mr. Ko informed me. There isn't
anything so strange about that. What troubles me is the feeling that he
is following us."
"I think this time we followed him," observed Clarence trying to be a
little witty.
"But he was evidently awaiting us here."
"Then we'll ask him his business," declared Clarence.
[Illustration: "THEN, EXTENDING HIS HANDS, ENTREATED."]
"No, Clarence, no," entreated Helen. "That might be the worst thing. I
am sure he means no harm. Let us wait and see if he attempts to follow
us away from here. Then we might inquire into his conduct."
"I feel sorry for him," said Dorothy. "I can't help it, though he may
mean no good. He looked so pitiful when he was being dragged away to the
magistrate. He was frightened too, but he didn't have the appearance of
one who contemplated wrong-doing."
"I feel in that way myself," said Helen. "I----"
But ere she finished the sentence, they were attracted by the noise of a
step behind them. Turning, they saw the one whom they were discussing.
With a hasty movement he prostrated himself before them; then extending
his hands, entreated: "O friends, hear the story of poor Choi-So!"