The old man slept in a shed that night, and dreamed of the elegant home and the handsome lady in the garnet dress.
“I think you might have given him a supper,” said Mark Heatherstone, a boy of sixteen, with a kind heart, but lacking a strong will, and who had already caused his parents some solicitude.
“When once you begin, there is no end of it,” said the mother. “Let him go to the Associated Charities or to some soup-house.”
“But he will have a heavy heart to-night, besides being hungry,” said the youth.
“I can’t take care of all the suffering in the world, so I shut my eyes to it. We must enjoy ourselves, and leave some money for you also.”
“I don’t mind much about that,” said the boy, who knew nothing of the hardships of life, “but I’d do a little good as I went along.”
Mother and son did not think alike about many things, and after a time the lad left his home and disappeared from the town.
His parents were of course distressed beyond measure. They searched and searched in vain. Mrs. Heatherstone, with all her selfishness and lack of wisdom in rearing her son, was exceedingly fond of him. His absence aged her, and when after some years he did not return, the fine house and elegant clothes lost their attraction. The habit of giving, however, is usually a growth from early life, and closed hands do not unclose easily as we grow older.
Once away from his home, Mark Heatherstone was too proud to go back, if indeed he ever wished to do so. He soon spent what money he had brought away with him, and then learned the hard lessons of poverty. He looked for work, occasionally found some, but oftener was penniless, and, like the old man who had besought alms at his father’s house, slept in sheds or in barns. The increasing habit of drink fastened upon him, and exposure undermined his health.