“For a little while he seemed to do better; but by-and-by he began to tell little lies again to get out of trouble, and then he told big ones, and a wicked big boy found him out once in a great lie, and said he would tell of him if Frank would not help him in some wicked thing he wanted to do. So Frank promised he would, and the big boy led him into all sorts of dreadful mischief, and at last it got found out by the schoolmaster, and Frank was expelled.”
“Oh!” ejaculated Violet, opening her eyes wide. “What did his mother say then?”
“His mother never saw him,” answered Winifred gravely, “for he was afraid to go home; and he ran away to sea, and led a miserable, wicked life for a great many years, and never once wrote to tell his mother that he was alive, or what had become of him.”
“How wicked!”
“Yes, it was wicked; and it broke his mother’s heart; and when she could find out nothing about him, and months and years went by without any news, she grew weaker and weaker, and sadder and sadder, and by-and-by she died. Think, Vi, if he hadn’t told that little lie about the pane of glass, or any other little lie, perhaps he might have grown up a good man.”
“Is that the end of the story, Winnie?”
“No, not quite; for by-and-by when he was a man he thought he would go back and see his mother again. He was poor, and miserable, and wicked, and he had been very ill, and he thought he would go back and try and be a good son if only his mother would forgive him. Well, he came back to England and went to his own village, and found that his mother was dead, and that she had died through his wicked conduct. Nobody knew Frank because he had changed so much, and nobody said a kind word to him. They did not know him, though he knew some of them. He was so desperate and miserable that he determined he would kill himself; and in the evening he crept down the village street to get to the river, and he meant to shoot himself there, and let his body fall into the water and be carried away.”
“And did he?” asked Vi, in an awe-struck tone.
“No; for as he was passing down the street he passed the school-room, and the door was open, and he saw that the room was full of people. He just fancied he would like to see what was going on, so he crept into the porch and listened. The clergyman was talking to the children and people, telling them about the prodigal son coming home to his father; and then he said that he would give them just one little text to remember, three little words which would always be a help if ever they had done wrong and were afraid whether they could be forgiven. The little text was ‘God is Love’—just that; and he talked to them about God and God’s love so earnestly, that poor Frank forgot all about the wicked plan in his head, and listened for every word; and he could not help crying as he thought how wicked he was and how good God was, and he crept away to cry outside; and when the clergyman came out, he saw him sitting on the ground, and he went and spoke to him and found out who he was. And the clergyman had been a friend of Frank’s mother and had known him when he was a boy; and he was taking care of some money which the mother had left for him in case he ever came back. And so he took Frank home with him, and talked to him and comforted him and helped him to be a good man; and Frank tried very hard, and always thought of the three little words, and by-and-by he did grow to love God and to be a good man, and mamma knows him now, and says he is very kind and good. And he is never tired of telling people how important little things are; because it was just a little lie which began all his wickedness, and it was one little text of three little words which stopped him from killing himself, and made him try to be a good man again.”
“That is a nice story,” said Violet. “I am so glad he got good at last.”