Chapter X Neddy Carter’s Mission
When Neddy Carter was carried from the hospital, he was at once admitted to one of the mission schools; but he begged so hard that he might still make his home with his mother that he was permitted to do so. He said nothing of his motives in preferring a bed on a pile of straw to a comfortable cot in the mission house, but he had a strong motive, which soon began to appear.
Unassisted and even unknown to his best friends, he gathered a few little ones in his mother’s garret, and then repeated to them the instructions he had gained. Perhaps his pleasant blue eyes, gazing so frankly into theirs, had made him a favorite before; or it might be that the sight of him, wheeling about in his chair, enduring so bravely the great trial that had come upon him gave him influence over his companions. At any rate, he had influence and he used it to win them to better paths.
Miss Howard learned something of this, and was so rejoiced at it that she resolved to visit him in his home. She had never been there since the day of Neddy’s accident, when, with Hepsey’s help, she had had him conveyed in the ambulance to the hospital.
This visit occurred on the Sunday afternoon following her call on Mr. Lambert, described in the last chapter. It so delighted her that she longed for Mr. Lambert to know how the boy he had befriended was using his influence for Christ.
On Thursday of the following week she called upon the sick man, and found he was out for a drive. Sitting in his room, she wrote him a hurried note, asking him to accompany her to see a mutual friend on Sunday afternoon, enclosing in the note a piece of poetry she had selected for him. She left the whole with the servant, requesting an answer to be sent to her house.
Let us look upon Mr. Lambert as he enters his chamber, leaning upon the arm of his valet. The note has been placed in plain view from his lounging chair, and he notices it as soon as he has taken his seat.
“Who sent that?” he asks.
The tone is much softer than when Marion called last. Perhaps his sickness has weakened him.
“Miss Howard called, sir, and finding you out, wrote her errand.”
“Glad I was away.” Even while uttering the words he felt that they were untrue.
He took the note in his hands,—thin, bony hands, showing his sickness. “Get me some gruel,” he said, “I’m tired, and shall try to sleep.”
“Shall I say you cannot see any one?”
“How many times must I repeat that I see no one but the doctor?”