Sue, A Little Heroine | Page 4

lying on her dying bed, and a boy and a girl were kneeling close to her.
"Keep a good heart up, Giles," she said to the boy. "I know I'm goin' to
leave yer, and you're as lame as lame can be, but then there's Sue. Sue
has a deal o' gumption for such a young un. Sue won't let yer want,
Giles, lad; you need never go to the workhouse while Sue's alive."
"No, that he needn't, mother," answered Sue.
"Can't yer get back on to yer sofa, Giles?" she added, turning to the boy.
"You'll break your back kneeling by mother all this time."
"No, I won't; I'd rather stay," answered the boy. His eyes were full of
light; he kept on stroking his mother's hand.
"Go on, mother," he said. "Tell us more. You're goin' to 'eaven, and
you'll see father." A sob strangled his voice for a minute.
"Yes, I'll see my good 'usband--that is, I hope so; I can but trust--I allus
have trusted, though often, ef I may say the truth, I couldn't tell what I
were a-trusting to. Somehow, whatever folks say, there is a
Providence."
"Oh, mother!" said Giles, "God is so beautiful--when you see father
again you'll know that."
"Mother," interrupted Sue, "does yer think as Providence 'ull get me
constant work at the sewing, enough to keep Giles and me?"
"I dunno, Sue," answered the woman. "I've trusted a good bit all my life,
and more specially since your father was took, and somehow we
haven't quite starved. Happen it'll be the same with Giles and you."
The boy sighed. His back was aching terribly. His heart was breaking at
the thought of losing his mother; he struggled to continue kneeling by

the bedside, but each moment the effort became greater.
The children were kneeling so when a quick, light step was heard on
the stairs, and a little man entered. It was too dark in the room for the
children to see his face; they heard, however, a very pleasant voice. It
said in cheerful tones:
"Why haven't you fire here, and a candle? Can I help you?"
"There ain't much candle left," answered Giles.
"And mother's dying," continued Sue. "She don't mind the dark--do yer,
mother?"
The little man made no reply in words, but taking some matches from
his pocket, and also a candle, he struck a light. He placed the candle in
a sconce on the wall, and then turned to the three.
"Be yer a parson?" asked the woman.
"I am a servant of God," answered Atkins.
"I'm real glad as you're a parson," she answered; "you can make it all
right between Almighty God and me."
"You are mistaken; I can't do that. That is Jesus Christ's work. But I
will pray with you--let me hold your hand, and we will pray together."
Then and there in the dismal attic Father John spoke out his heart in the
following simple words. Even Sue never forgot those words to the
latest day she lived:
"Lord God Almighty, look down upon this dying woman. Thy Son died
for her and she knows it not. Lord, she is in great darkness, and she is
so near death that she has no time to learn the truth in its fullness; but
Thou who art in the light can show some of Thy light to her. Now, in
her dying hour, reveal to her Thyself."
The dying woman fixed her glittering eyes on the strange man. When

he ceased speaking she smiled; then she said, slowly:
"I allus felt that I could trust in Providence."
She never spoke after that, and half an hour afterwards she died.
This was the beginning of Father John's friendship with Giles and Sue.
The next day Sue, by dint of many and anxious inquiries, found him
out, and put her queer little unkempt head into his room.
"Ef yer please, parson, may I speak to yer 'bout Giles and me?"
"Certainly, my little girl. Sit down and tell me what I can do for you."
"Parson," said Sue, with much entreaty in her voice and many a pucker
on her brow, "what I wants to say is a good deal. I wants ter take care o'
Giles, to keep up the bit o' home and the bit o' victual. It 'ud kill Giles
ef he wor to be took to the work'us; and I promised mother as I'd keep
'im. Mother wor allers a-trustin', and she trusted Giles ter me."
Here Sue's voice broke off into a sob, and she put up her dirty apron to
her eyes.
"Don't cry, my dear," answered Atkins kindly; "you must not break
your word to your mother. Will it cost you so much money to keep
yourself and