Although Charlie Whiteman was not in his class during school hours, he sought him out as soon as they went into the playground, and loaned him his top—the most precious thing he owned next to his sixpence. The spirit of teasing was so strong in Charlie, that after playing with it a little while, a sudden mischievous impulse caused him to throw it over the playground wall, into the garden of an irritable old gentleman, who had declared that any balls or tops that come over the wall must be forfeited by their owners.
“Your top’s over the wall, Bobbie,” said Charlie limping away as fast as possible. Bobbie could not believe it for a Moment; then tears welled up to his eyes.
“Cry-baby! cry-baby!” exclaimed Charlie, mockingly. Bobbie hurried out of his sight, and in a quiet corner of the playground had the cry he really could not help. That top had been a gift from his father, and he had had it so long.
Poor Bobbie could not summon courage to face that tall gentleman next door; he felt bewildered and helpless and disappointed because he had failed to change Charlie’s feelings towards him. He could only whisper out his trouble to Jesus, with whom no sorrow is too small for symphony, no difficulty too small for help.
While he sat there in his helplessness, something’ came whizzing over the wall and alighted almost at his feet.
What a scream of joy rang through the air as Bobbie picked up his top, rather dirty, but unhurt, for it had alighted in going and returning on soft, safe spots of earth. A gardener was working on Mr. Mann’s grounds, and finding the top, sent it back over the playground wall. Bobbie did not know how it was restored to him, but he felt positive that his sorrowful, whispered words had reached to heaven.
“You should let Whiteman alone,” said Harry Lester to him some days afterward; “it’s no good to be kind to such a fellow as he; if you do him a good turn, he’ll do you an evil one the first chance he has.”
Bobbie did not feel discouraged; for he and his mother were praying for Charlie Whiteman, so they felt sure his heart would not always be so hard and unfeeling.
One evening Bobbie was playing in the court with his top, when Whiteman went limping by, and though his face was turned away, Bobbie felt sure he had been crying. Knowing that Whiteman would be angry if he suggested such a thing, he only said, in a friendly tone, “A Punch and Judy has just gone up North St., Charles: wouldn’t you like to see it? I was there just now, but I’ll help you along if you take my arm.”
“I don’t want your arm,” said Charlie, passionately and fiercely; “I don’t want to be helped along all my life by other people. Why should you be able to run about, and why should I limp like this, I should like to know?”
Bobbie was a little frightened, but he began to see what a great affliction the boy found in his lameness, “I don’t know why,” he said timidly, “but Jesus knows why.”
“Nobody knows,” cried Charlie, bitterly, “and nobody cares.”
“O, yes, indeed! Charlie,” said Bobbie, earnestly, “Jesus cares. Didn’t He care about the poor lame people when He was down here on earth? And isn’t He just the same—just as kind as He was then? O, do come to our Sunday school, Charlie; you wouldn’t feel had like this about being lame if you heard about Jesus. The teacher says He gives us pain in His pity to bring us close to Himself; and He won’t ever give us too much.”
ML-09/22/1935