Adapted from Choice Stories for Children

Into the Sunshine

“I wish Father would come home,” the boy on the sofa said in a troubled tone.

“Your father will be angry,” said Aunt Phoebe, who was sitting in the room, reading a book.

Richard sat up and and frowned. “He’ll be sorry, not angry. Father never gets angry.”

Ten minutes lapsed and the sound of a bell reached his ear. “That’s Father, now!” Richard started up and went to the door. He came slowly back, saying with a disappointed air, “It wasn’t Father. I wonder what keeps him so late. Oh, I wish he would come!”

“You seem anxious to get into deeper trouble,” remarked Aunt Phoebe. She had been visiting for about a week and was not sympathetic toward children.

“I believe, Aunt Phoebe, that you would like to see me whipped,” said Richard, indignantly; “but it won’t happen.”

“I must confess,” replied his aunt, “that I think a little whipping would not be out of place. If you were my child, I am quite sure you would not escape.”

“I am not your child, and I do not want to be. Father is good, and he loves me.”

Again the bell rang, and again the boy left the sofa and went to the door.

“It’s Father!” he exclaimed.

“Ah, Richard!” was the kindly greeting, as Mr. Gordon took the hand of his boy. “But what is the matter, my son? You don’t look happy.”

“Won’t you come in here?” Richard drew his father into the library. Mr. Gordon sat down, still holding Richard’s hand.

“You are in trouble, my son. What has happened?”

Richard’s eyes filled with tears as he looked into his father’s face. He tried to answer, but his lips quivered. Then he opened the door of a glass case and brought out the fragments of a broken statue which had been sent home only the day before. A frown came over Mr. Gordon’s face as Richard set the pieces on a table.

“Who did this, my son?” he asked in an even voice.

“I threw my ball in the room once—only once, in forgetfulness.” The poor boy’s voice was unsteady and he looked at his father anxiously.

For a little while Mr. Gordon sat controlling himself and collecting his disturbed thoughts. Then he said cheerfully: “What is done, Richard, can’t be helped. Put the broken pieces away. You have had trouble enough about it, I can see. I will not add a word to increase your distress.”

“Oh, Father!” And the boy threw his arms about his father’s neck. “You are so good.”

Five minutes later Richard entered the sitting room with his father. Aunt Phoebe looked up, expecting to see two shadowed faces, but she did not find them. She was puzzled.

“That was very unfortunate,” she said to Mr. Gordon after a little while. “It was such an exquisite work of art. It is hopelessly ruined. I think Richard was a naughty boy.”

“We have settled that, Phoebe,” was the mild, but firm, answer of Mr. Gordon. “It is one of our rules in this house to get into the sunshine as soon as possible.”

Into the sunshine as quickly as possible! It’s the best way!