“I must do all I can to help Whiteman,” thought Bobbie, rather unwillingly. He did not like Whiteman—nobody did—but when his little heart thought,
“I must be good to him for Jesus’ sake,” things looked much sweeter and brighter, and though Charlie Whiteman was not in his class during school hours, he sought him out directly they went into the playground, and loaned him his top—the most precious thing he owned next to his sixpence. The spirit of teasing was so strong in Charlie, that after playing with it a little while, a sudden mischievous impulse caused him to throw it over the playground wall, into the garden of an irritable old gentleman, who had declared that any balls or tops that calm, over the wall must be forfeited by their owners.
“Your top’s over the wall, Bobbie,” said Charlie limping away as fast as possible. Bobbie could not believe it for a moment; then tears welled up to his eyes.
“Cry-baby! cry-baby!” exclaimed Charlie, mockingly. Bobbie hurried out of his sight, and in a quiet corner of the playground had the cry he really could not help. That top had been a gift from his father, and he had had it so long. Poor Bobbie could not summon courage to face that tall gentleman next door; he felt bewildered and helpless and disappointed because he had failed to change Charlie’s feelings towards him. He could only whisper out his trouble to Jesus, with whom no sorrow is too small for sympathy, no difficulty too small for help. While he sat there in his helplessness, something came whizzing over the wall and alighted almost at his feet. What a scream of joy rang through the air as Bobbie picked up his top, rather dirty, but unhurt, for it had alighted in going and returning on soft, safe spots of earth. A gardener was working on Mr. Mann’s grounds, and finding the top, sent it back over the playground wall. Bobbie did not know how it was restored to him, but he felt positive that his sorrowful, whispered words had reached to heaven.
“I should let Whiteman alone,” said Harry Lester to him some days after; “it’s no good to be kind to such a fellow as he; if you do him a good turn, he’ll do you an evil one the first chance he has.”
Bobbie did not feel discouraged, but he and his mother were praying for Charlie Whiteman, so they felt sure his heart would not always be so hard and unfeeling.
One evening Bobbie was playing in the court with his top, when Whiteman went limping by, and though his face was turned away, Bobbie felt sure he had been crying, but he knew Whiteman would be angry if he suggested such a thing, so he only said, in a friendly tone, “A Punch and Judy has just gone up North St. Charlie; wouldn’t you like to see it? I. was there just now, but I’ll help you along if you take my arm.”
“I don’t want your arm,” said Charlie, passionately and fiercely; “I don’t want to be helped along all my life by other people. Why should you be able to run about, and why should I limp like this, I should like to know?”
Bobbie was a little frightened, but he, began to see what a great affliction the boy found in his lameness.
“I don’t know why,” he said timidly, “but Jesus knows why.”
“Nobody knows,” cried Charlie, bitterly, “and nobody cares.”
“O, yes, indeed! Charlie,” said Bobbie, earnestly, “Jesus cares. Didn’t He care about the poor lame people when He was down here on earth? And isn’t He just the same—just as kind as He was then?
O, do come to our Sunday School, Charlie; you wouldn’t feel bad like this about being lame if you heard about Jesus. The teacher says, He gives us pain in His pity, to bring us close to Himself; and He won’t ever give us too much.”
“It’s like this,” said Charlie, hopelessly; “you know that great big new hospital in S.? There’s a clever doctor there from E. that understands a lot about bad hips like mine, and you know I’ve never had any proper doctoring to it since I hurt it, for father and mother are always hard op for money. Sam Brooks and Lizzie Webster have been under Dr. B. and he has done them a sight of good. O, if I could only see him, and find out if there is any hope of my hip getting cured! How happy I should be!”
“I believe there is hope,” cried Bobbie joyously. “Mother always says you would get much stronger if you had a lot of good food and a long rest.”
“My mother says as how it’s no good wasting money to go to S., and dad’s out of work just now,” said Charlie. “I’ve saved a penny for nigh five weeks, but I couldn’t get there in time, except by the early morning train, and the return fare is seven pence. I’ve just been to ask Mrs. Linton at the store to let me work a bit for her on Saturday; but she says she has promised all the small jobs to you.”
Bobbie said nothing for two or three minutes; then a higher strength than his own helped him to say, “I’ve got sixpence, Charlie; I’ll run and bring it to you.”
“You! But Bobbie,” hesitated the boy, “it may be ever so long before I can pay you back.”
“I want to give it to you,” said Bobbie, firmly. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
His mother was silent when he asked for his sixpence, that Charlie might go to the hospital; but she gave it to him with a most tender kiss, and thanked God in her heart that her little boy was acting so unselfishly.
“I can’t think how you can do it, Bobbie,” said Charlie. “I’ve been horrid to you; but I tell you what, little chap, whether I get better or not, I’ll never forget how you helped me. There must be something in your Bible-reading, after all, if it makes you care about a fellow like me.”
Charlie went next day, in company with a neighbor, Mrs. Webster and her little girl, who was under hospital treatment, to consult the clever doctor. He saw at once that nothing could be done for the boy unless he had quiet, nourishment, and constant attention for some weeks.
“You must come into the hospital, and lie up for a time, my boy,” he said, kindly; “then we hope to send you away looking another sort of lad altogether.”
Charlie had to wait a little while, till a bed was vacant; but though by the doctor’s orders, he kept quiet at home during those few days, he was full of hope, and asked Bobbie more than once to come in and talk to him about Jesus; who cared about the lame.
And O, when several months later, the children of the Sunday School gathered together one Sunday, and Bobbie came in with Charlie, looking almost as well as Bobbie himself, it would be difficult to say which of the two joined the most joyously in the hymn of praise—Charlie, who had learned in the restful calm of the hospital ward to love the Lord who had healed him; or Bobbie, whose first sixpence, given up for Jesus’ sake, had been so tenderly blest by the Master.
ML 12/15/1918