Chapter 2
As little Charlie grew, the mother was glad to see the health bloom on his cheek; its glow in his eye. She taught him to be tender to his sick brother, he who seldom stirred from his little stuffed chair, and looked so wistfully out when the sun shone. On warm days the mother, would draw the invalid into the pretty garden, while Charlie frolicked like a young kid, coming to Daniel, to, know if this wasn’t nice, and that pretty.
One day there were more visitors than usual at the beach, which was not very far from Daniel and Charlie’s home, it was a warm, glowing noon, when a car stopped in front of the widow’s house and a child eight years of age, came up to the cottage door. She was the daughter of luxury, but her manners were winning, and her face gentle and sweet,
“If you please, may I have some water?” asked the child.
“Wouldn’t you rather have milk?” said Mrs. Marks.
“O, yes, indeed,” said the little one eagerly; “and I can wait just as long as I please to drink it, for poor papa is so very ill and tired, he must wait ever so long.
See, he is sitting under the big tree by the gate.”
“Won’t your father come in, too?”
“I’ll go and ask him,” and away she ran, returning to say he did not feel able. She drank the milk, and threw off her dainty little bonnet.
“You’re sick too,” she said as she stood at Daniel’s side, drawn there by the sweet face. He smiled for a reply.
“I’ve seen you ever so many times as we drove past,” she said “Don’t you get tired sitting here? I would think your mother or some one would drive you to the beach, it is so nice there.”
“Not with mother,” said Daniel smiling, “and if I could go, mother doesn’t own a car.”
“Dear, doesn’t she? we own everything. We’ve got a great, grand house with sofas and pianos and O, everything! But for all that, I believe I heard father say this morning, that he would sooner be a poor man, and live in a little house, if he could only be well.”
“Does he love Jesus?” asked Daniel.
“What? love who? Jesus? Do you mean our Saviour? I don’t know; I expect he does; but he never says anything about Him,” answered the child, with an earnest gaze in her great gray eyes, “Do you love Jesus?”
“I guess I do, for Jesus loves me,” he said, clasping and unclasping his thin white fingers, while a look of deep joy shone across his pure face. “I don’t know what I should do if I did not; for much as mother loves me, she can’t keep awake with me, and Jesus is at my bedside watching, so I talk with Him.”
“Jesus watching! do you mean that our Saviour comes down from heaven?”
“O, yes! Jesus comes. He is near me, I know He is! for though it’s so dark I can’t see the bed posts or the white quilt, I know He is by my side. Yes, Jesus comes to me, I know He does, He says,”
“I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.” Heb, 13:6.
ML 06/29/1941