"Sickness and pain are bad enough," he thought, "even when one can feel that it is our good and loving Father who has sent them; but what must they be to him?" And he asked his mother's leave to go to see if he could be of any use to Alick. His mother consented, and resolutely turning his mind from the cricket-match just beginning in the school-yard, George went.
He found the poor boy in a pitiable state. His face was swelled from the effect of the cuts and bruises; one eye was quite closed up, and the other he could only open a little way, for a minute at a time. He could not turn himself in bed,—the sprained arm was bound to his side; he could do nothing to amuse himself; and in that motherless, sisterless home, there was no one to devise amusement for him. His father was kind and anxious about him; but it never occurred to him to sit by his bedside, and try to make the time pass pleasantly; and even if it had occurred to him, he would not have known how to do it. All that money could buy Alick had in abundance; but tenderness and kind companionship were what he most wanted, and these could not be bought.
He seemed pleased to see Georgie, and gladly accepted his offer to sit for a little with him and read to him. Georgie read aloud very well, and with great spirit, and Alick was delighted with an amusement which was quite new to him. The hour Georgie was allowed to give him passed most delightfully, and when Georgie rose to go away, he was eagerly asked to come back the next day.
The next, and the next, and many succeeding afternoons, Georgie spent by Alick's bedside, reading or chatting to him; and when he was able to use his arms, playing with him at chess, draughts, or any such game that Alick liked. That tender pity which God had put into Georgie's heart for the poor wicked boy, he kept fresh and warm from day to day; and Georgie never grudged the time or trouble which he gave to Alick,—never lost patience with him, however fretful and unreasonable he might be, but was ever ready to do what Alick wished, whether he himself liked it or not.
One afternoon they had played for a long time at a favourite game of Alick's, but one which Georgie thought very tiresome.
"Well, that is one of the nicest games in the world," said Alick, stretching himself back upon his pillows when the game was done. "Isn't it? Don't you like it?"
"No," said Georgie, looking up with an amused smile; "I don't like it much."
"Why then did you play so long without saying that you did not like it?" Alick asked, much surprised.
"Because you like it. I wanted you to have what you like," Georgie answered simply; and having put away all the things, he stooped over Alick and asked him very kindly, nay, I may say very lovingly, if he thought he should have a better night, if he thought his pain was less than it had been.
"Yes,—no,—I don't know," Alick said, looking earnestly up into Georgie's eyes. "But, Georgie, I say, why do you care so much?"