Charlie Scott / or, There's Time Enough

by Unknown

It was very strange: Charlie rubbed his eyes, thinking he could not be quite awake, surely, and looked again; but the things were still there. Then he tried to remember what happened before he went to sleep, but his head felt so weak and light that he could not think. He put his hand out and felt the curtains; they were real enough. Just as he was making up his mind that he would try to sit up and look about the room, the door was gently opened, and a pleasant face peeped in. Charlie remembered at once that it was good, kind Mrs. Heedman, who used to come and see his mother when she was ill.

She seemed surprised and glad to see that he knew her, and coming quickly up to him, gave him a kiss, put his pillow to rights, and told him he must not get up yet.

"I feel very tired, Mrs. Heedman," said Charlie languidly; "have I been asleep long?"

"You have been very ill, dear," she answered, gently, "so ill that you did not know any one for a few days. Are you glad I brought you here to this nice little bed, to take care of you?"

"Oh yes, thank you," said Charlie, earnestly. Mrs. Heedman saw that he was thinking and trying to remember something, so to change the current of his thoughts she poured out his medicine, and handed it to him. "Now drink this up, like a good boy," she said, "then I will bring you some beef tea soon."

Charlie rather unwillingly, and with a wry face, drank the mixture. As he gave her back the glass, his eye rested on a picture that had been hidden before by the curtain; it was a ship and some small boats at sea. In a moment the something that he had been trying to remember flashed upon him, and burying his face in the pillow to shut out the picture, he sobbed out, "Oh, father, father!"

Mrs. Heedman stood quietly by, waiting until the first burst of grief was over, and asking in her heart for the help of God's Holy Spirit to teach her what she had best say to comfort him. Presently the heavy sobs almost ceased; but Charlie did not move or speak. She took his hand in hers smoothing and caressing it, as if to assure him of her sympathy.

"Charlie dear," she said gently, "it is very sad, and very hard to bear, is it not?" Charlie did not speak. She sat down beside him, still keeping his hand in hers, and went on speaking.

"Last year, when my own dear little boy died—you remember Tom, don't you, Charlie? Well, when he was taken from me, I thought my heart would have broken; it seemed as if I should never be happy again. I felt sad and ill, and weary of everything, just as you feel now." Charlie turned towards her, and looked interested. "For some weeks I was very unhappy, and thought no one had such a trouble as mine; but afterwards I learned how wrong it was of me to find fault with God's will; and when I began to count up all the blessings I had received, and remembered all that my dear Lord Jesus Christ had done and suffered for me, I felt sure that He who loved me so much would not let me suffer any pain or sorrow that was not necessary for my good."

Charlie was listening attentively; he quite understood all Mrs. Heedman said. His mother had often read to him out of the Bible, and spoken to him of the Saviour.