“It is certainly very creditable to you,” continued Marcus. “I don’t see how it could be improved. Yes, I will accept it with great pleasure, and thank you for it, too. Coming as a present from you, I shall value it ten times what it would cost to get such a cane made—yes, a hundred times. I shall remember your kindness with gratitude, perhaps after you have forgotten both me and the cane.”
“I don’t think I shall forget you very soon—you have been so good to me,” replied the boy, with a look which testified to the sincerity of the remark.
“And you have proved yourself worthy of my kindness, so I need not take much credit for that,” rejoined Marcus.
The boy, who but lately was so bold and defiant in his bearing, blushed at this not unmeaning compliment, and withdrew.
When Marcus returned home, in the afternoon, he again stopped to inquire after the sick boy, and was requested to go in, as Benny had expressed a desire to see him. He found the sufferer in a little bed which had been made up for him in the front room, near the fire, for he complained much of the cold. A faint smile lit up his face as Marcus entered.
“How is he, Mrs. Hapley?” inquired Marcus, as he seated himself by the bedside, and took Benny’s cold hand into his own.
“I think he is a little more comfortable than he was this morning,” replied Mrs. Hapley. “He has been very much distressed for breath, most of the day, but he seems to be better, now.”
“I am glad to hear that, and I hope he will continue to improve,” said Marcus.
Benny, whose mild, lustrous eyes had been fastened upon Marcus from the moment he entered the door, was too weak to speak aloud; but as he seemed to have something to say, Marcus bent his ear down to the boy’s mouth, and was addressed in a whisper as follows:—
“I’m not going to get well, and I don’t want to. I’m going to heaven pretty soon. I have been longing to go, ever since I was taken sick, and now I know I’m almost there. I love God, and Jesus, and the angels, and all good folks. Do you remember what you told me about heaven, the other day—how many millions of good little children are there, and how Jesus calls them his lambs, and wipes away their tears, and takes them in his arms? There wont he anything to make us sorry in heaven, will there?”