DOING FOR MOTHER | AdventAI

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Feb 11, 1889

DOING FOR MOTHER.

"I CAN'T find my glasses, George. Do you see them anywhere?"

"Seems to me you're losing something 'most all the time," said George, rather fretfully.

"So it does. Perhaps they are under the pillow, or perhaps they have fallen on the floor."

With a very bad grace George shook up the pillows and looked on the floor. "No, I don't see them," he said.

"O here they are, under my shawl. Now, dear, hand me your jacket to mend. And see, my work-basket is a little beyond my reach."

"The boys are waiting for me to go berrying with them," growled George.

"Well, I am sorry to keep you, but I'm afraid you'll have to run up to the machine drawer for a bit like this jacket."

The scowl on George's face deepened as he went up stairs, not with a run, but with slow, unwilling feet. "Is there anything else you want?" he asked in an injured tone, as he brought the piece. She did not answer at once, and as he looked at her face he saw that her lips trembled and tears were in her eyes.

"No, dear," she presently said, taking his face between both her hands and giving him a very tender kiss. "I hope you will have a very nice time. It is a beautiful day to be out, isn't it?"

A sudden thought struck sharply to the boy's heart. It had never before occurred to him how hard it must be that his mother never could go out; that for three years she had been lying in that one room. "O mother," he said, "I wish you could go out. I'd be glad to stay in if you could."

"You dear boy," she said, kissing him again, "Hurry away now. I can't go, but it makes it a good deal easier to stay when I know you wish I could."

"Does it really," he said, wistfully.

"Yes, really."

"Hurry, George," called the boys, and he went out.

But he did not join in the frolic with his usual headlong eagerness. His head was so full of thoughts of a kind very unusual to him, that there seemed something lacking in the brightness of the sunshine and the softness of the summer wind. When the boys reached the berrying-ground, they separated more or less, in search of the red, ripe fruit, and George several times found himself alone and able to go on with his thinking.

"I don't believe I've been a very good boy to mother," he said to himself. "I know I haven't. I'm always in a hurry to get out, and I grumble when she wants me to read to her, and make a fuss when she can't find her things. If I had to stay in bed all the time, I guess I'd lose things worse than she does. I mean to help her every day. I'll go every morning and find all her things for her, and put 'em on a chair by her, so they won't get lost again. Goody, though! I know what I'll do that's better than that." He gave such a jump as nearly to upset his pail of berries. His new thought took such hold of him that he had to sit down and give his full attention to it for awhile, and then the boys were astonished at hearing him propose to go home. As none of them were inclined to leave the berries so early, he went by himself. "I'm going to do all I can for mother, truly I am," he said to himself, "but I'm not going to begin all at once, for fear she should guess what's up."

He carried her a saucer of his berries, and the next day and for several days afterward waited on her kindly and carefully in the morning, and then kept a good deal away from her through the day, fearing that she might read in his face that he had a wonderful secret.

"What is George about that I see so little of him?" his mother asked of Susan, the woman who took care of the house. "Is he away from home so much?"

"O no," said Susan, "he's about most of the time, and as busy as a bee, but there's no tellin' what he's up to. It must be some new caper, for he shuts himself up in the tool-house, and won't let nobody go in. Mischief hatchin', like enough."

Susan was a good, faithful woman, but not at all given to putting things pleasantly or cheerfully.

George worked away for several days, at the end of which he came to his mother's room, looking as if he had a great weight on his mind. "Mother," he said at length, in a tone which showed her that he had paid no attention to what she had been saying, "wouldn't you be willing to let me have these little pictures in my room?" He pointed to two which hung close beside her, above her bed.

"Why, Georgie, do you really want my pictures? I'm very fond of them, you know, and like to have them here."

"I'd like to have 'em for awhile, anyway," he said.

"Then you shall have them, of course, dear." But the words were said a little regretfully, and she looked hurt and sorry, as George, without saying anything more, carried away the pictures, for there were not many pretty things in her room.

She was awakened the next morning by a slight noise, and opening her eyes, caught sight of George, bobbing below the foot of the bed, as if anxious to escape her notice.

"Is that you, George?" she asked.

"Yes, mother," he said, coming to kiss her, and looking as if very much puzzled what to do. "I say, mother, you've waked up too early. Won't you please to shut your eyes and make believe you're asleep yet?"

She did as he asked, and for a few moments could hear him making some quiet movements. Then he cried, "Wake up, mother!"

She opened her eyes to see him standing at the foot of the bed, watching her face with a pleased, expectant look.

Something on the wall close beside her drew her attention, and she turned her head that way. "Oh!" she exclaimed, in great surprise and pleasure at sight of a bracket-shelf which hung within easy reach of her hand.

"I made it every bit myself," said George, his face beaming still more brightly. "All except those little bits of fancy doings glued on, and I worked for half a day in Billy Dyer's carpenter-shop to pay for 'em. I gilded 'em myself, and I bought the staining stuff and stained the rest of it. It looks almost as nice as a bought one, doesn't it, mother?"

"Ten times nicer to me, dear—"

"And see, mother, here's the place for your work-basket, and here are your glasses and your books. Plenty of room for everything you want. You won't have to keep hunting for your things any more. Oh! I forgot to tell you about the cord and tassel. Susan helped me to twist it up out of red worsted last night. She promised she would not tell you for anything, and I've promised to make her one to keep her things handy, and she's as pleased as she can be, and says I'm a tip-top boy."

"I think Susan is right," said mother.

But George rushed from the room before waiting to hear more, returning in a moment with hammer and nails.

"Did you really think I meant to take away your pictures, mother?" he said laughing in great glee.

"You see I could not make out how I was to get my bracket hung without driving nails, and letting the whole secret out. So I made believe I wanted the pictures. Now I'm going to hang 'em over here."

"You are the dearest comfort and blessing in the world," said his mother, when at length he came and bent over her. "I shall never look at your bracket without a happy thought of your kind thought of me. And I shall never take a thing from it without being glad, because of your dear hands putting it here for me."

The crowning point of George's surprise came in his going out and gathering flowers to put into a tiny vase to be placed on the bracket. "I'll bring fresh ones to her every morning," he declared to himself. "I never felt so glad about anything in my life. I'm going to keep up doing things for mother—see if I don."—Baptist Examiner.