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Updated: May 25, 2025
Why did not Charlie undeceive him about the letter at once? He made up his mind to tell him, but put it off until his father had finished all he had to say. "I have not seen my sister for years," said John Heedman; "she is the only relative I have living, but some misunderstanding rose up between us after my mother's death at least, she took offence, and I do not know the reason even now.
Heedman, "Yes, I think the cold air has seized my chest; that makes the cough worse just now." Tea was out of the question with Charlie, and the little crisp cake lay untouched. "If they would only scold me, or punish me, or do something to me," he thought, "I should feel better." "How is it you are not getting on with your tea?" said Mrs. Heedman, looking at his plate.
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."
He is generous, grateful, and affectionate, and John Heedman and his wife his good "father and mother," as he calls them now are very dear to him. I need scarcely tell you that they have never regretted adopting him, and could not love him better, or be more proud of him, if he were their own son.
Charlie was younger than most of the boys she expected, but she knew he was more intelligent and thoughtful than the generality of boys of his age, principally because he had such good home training. Mrs. Heedman very gladly agreed for him to attend regularly. As for Charlie himself, his delight knew no bounds, especially when he heard that they were all to have tea, and spend the evening at Mrs.
I saw them lift some one out of the water, dead, but I forget what happened after." Mrs. Heedman told him as gently and as kindly as she could about his father's funeral; who arranged it, and where he was buried, and that his uncle's body had not been found. "When you are better, Charlie, we will go and see the grave, and you shall set some flowers on it."
"Yes," answered his father; "and now let us have a little talk about 'there's time enough. I dare say you will be surprised when I tell you it is really selfishness that makes you so fond of putting off." "Oh, mother!" said Charlie, quickly, "I didn't think I was selfish. Do you think I am?" Mrs. Heedman could scarcely help smiling at his tone of injured innocence.
Heedman left Charlie, she began to prepare her husband's tea in the next room; and nicely she looked, as she moved lightly about in her clean light-print dress and white collar, her dark hair smoothly and plainly arranged, and a smile on her face. It was a face that made you look twice. Her eyes were so calm, so full of peace, you felt instinctively it was that peace which God alone can give.
There were bright China-asters, sweet-scented stocks, French marigolds, rose bushes laden with blossoms, little clusters of candytuft, Virginia-stock, mignonette, and many other flowers, contrasting well in colour, and grouped in such good taste. If John Heedman took a pride in his garden, Mrs. Heedman certainly took a pride in her house.
At first they looked at him in amazement, but gradually his meaning came upon them. "My dear boy," said Mrs. Heedman, laying down her knitting, "what do you mean?" "I mean this," said he, putting down his lamp, and taking each of their hands in his, "I am not going to be an idle, selfish fellow any longer. It's all settled and done.
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