HIS BROTHER'S KEEPER by Marion Brier

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Mountain View, California · Mar 8, 1905

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 31, No. 10.

HIS BROTHER'S KEEPER.

By Marion Brier

[Marion Brier, in Ram's Horn.]

"THERE goes Frank Evans down the street. How dissipated he is getting to look!" exclaimed Mrs. Harding from her seat by the window.

Mr. Harding glanced up from the sermon he was writing to look at the young man who was swaggering by, his hands in his pockets, his cap set jauntily on the side of his head, and a cigaret between his lips. A cloud passed over the minister's face at the sight, and he answered thoughtfully, "Yes, I know he is. It's a shame, too, for Frank has the making of a fine man in him. If he had to work for his living he might amount to something. This having nothing to do but to loaf around the streets all day is enough to ruin any character."

"Carroll is getting to be just like him, too. Just look at him now!" Mrs. Harding nodded her head toward a younger boy several rods behind Frank, who was swaggering along in exact imitation of the young man, his cap perched at just the same angle on the curly head, his hands thrust in his pockets in the same manner, and the same brand of cigaret between his boyish lips. "Carroll idolizes Frank," she went on, "and he tries to imitate him in everything he does. It's a pity the boy hasn't a better example to follow. He used to be such a nice little fellow."

The minister's eyes followed the two boys as they disappeared down the street. There was a troubled expression on his face, and he sighed as he turned back to the unfinished sermon.

Meanwhile, Frank had reached Front Street and had disappeared within the door of a saloon there. He was noisily welcomed by the crowd gathered there, and invitations to "have something" were pressed upon him, for the jolly, light-hearted young man was a great favorite among them.

Only a few minutes later Carroll's boyish face appeared at the same door. Frank frowned in displeasure at the sight. With all his faults he was very fond of his young brother, and he did not want him in the atmosphere of the saloon.

Carroll walked up to the bar, and, with a glance at Frank's half-empty glass, ordered the same for himself.

Frank noticed the glance, and it stung him with the sudden knowledge that Carroll was drinking because he himself was drinking, and that Carroll was in the saloon because he himself was there, and more than that, it told him that the boy would follow him in whatever he did, right or wrong.

He suddenly pushed back his glass and strode out of the door. He did some hard thinking as he went down the street. The face of his mother came before him as she looked that day ten years ago when she called the two boys to her bedside and told them that she must leave them. He remembered how she had put her hand upon his head and had looked lovingly and earnestly into his face as she said, "I trust you, Frank, to take care of Carroll and help him to grow up into a true, noble man." He had promised through his tears, and he had tried to be true to that trust in the years since then.

In those earlier years he had spent much time amusing the lonely child, and Carroll had repaid him by a loving devotion that had grown stronger and stronger as the years went by. Frank was his hero; his ideal of all that was wise and good.

For the first time Frank understood that Carroll's ambition was to become like himself. And the conviction grew stronger and stronger within him that he did not want Carroll to grow into the kind of a man that he himself was fast becoming.

Carroll must stop his wild ways; he would give the boy a good talking to, he decided. But in his heart of hearts he knew that it would be of no use. If he tried to point Carroll to one path while he followed the opposite path himself, he knew the loyal little fellow would choose to go with him. The only way to make Carroll into the true, noble man that his mother had desired him to be was to become true and noble himself.

Frank fought a hard fight with himself that day, but the echo of those words in his ears, "I trust you, Frank," decided the victory, and he never faltered after it was once decided. Not that he never made mistakes and failures, but they only seemed to urge him on to greater effort. His aimless life had found a purpose.

A few months later the minister remarked to his wife one day. "Have you noticed what a change there is in Frank Evans? He is fast becoming one of the finest young men in town. I used to be afraid that his money would be his ruin, but he certainly is taking life earnestly at last, and is making the most and best of himself. I have no fear now but that he will make good use of his wealth."

"Yes," answered Mrs. Harding, "I had noticed the change for some time. He certainly doesn't seem like the same young man at all. And have you noticed what a different boy Carroll is, too? He is in my Sunday-school class, you know, so I see a good deal of him, and I do not believe you will find a more earnest and manly boy in town."