A Sunday with father

What a welcome day Sunday was to Master Sunshine!

To be sure he did not always enjoy going to church, for sometimes the sermon seemed long and tiresome; but there was always the singing to look forward to, and the breaking up of the congregation after the benediction had been said. It was always so pleasant then, for the ladies in their pretty gowns and the men in their black Sunday coats exchanged kindly greetings with one another; and Master Sunshine, in his best blue blouse, with golden anchors embroidered on the shoulders, would follow sedately with his family, and shake hands with the minister, and nod to his boy and girl acquaintances in a very grown-up manner.

Though there were many things about the service that he could not understand, yet it always pleased him to think that so many people had come together to do honor to God. It seemed so like the Old Testament times, when the people went up to Jerusalem to worship the Lord.

Sunday-school took up another hour of the day, and the lessons there were always easy to understand. Miss Bell, his young teacher, had always pictures to show them of the places they read about; and there were texts and hymns to recite, and the class missionary box to put pennies in.

But what Master Sunshine looked forward to most of all was the Sunday afternoon walk with his father. Usually they would ramble off to the woods or to some quiet by-road, and talk over all the doings of the week. And if Master Sunshine had done anything that was mean or selfish, he was sure to tell about it then.

“Any boy can be good on Sunday, when his father is with him,” explained Master Sunshine; “it’s on the week-days, when there isn’t a man round, that he is most apt to get into trouble. And I tell you the worst about me, father, so you won’t think I’m a better boy than I really am.”

It was always so comforting to talk things over, even if he had been doing wrong; for he was always sure of understanding and sympathy and good advice.

“I often wish every boy and his father were chums like us,” he said once. “Now, when Tommy Dane gets in trouble, he is always afraid to go to his father, and his mother is too busy to be bothered; so he just has to go to some of the school-boys. Of course, they don’t know much better than he does; and their advice is just as apt as not to be wrong, and poor Tommy finds himself in worse trouble than ever.

“Only last week he burst the class foot-ball by standing on it, and the boys said he must buy another. He had no money; but they told him to sell something of his own, and use the money to buy another ball. So he sent the silver mug that his aunt gave him when he was a baby, up to town, and it sold for enough to buy a new ball. Then the teacher wanted to know how it was that the boys happened to have so much money, and Mrs. Dane missed the silver mug. Mr. Dane came to the school and took Tommy home, and he was, oh, so angry with him! He said, ’he was disgraced because his son was a thief,’” and Master Sunshine’s tone grew very indignant.

“You see, father, that if Tommy had only gone to some one like you at the first, there would have been no trouble at all.”

“And what do you think I would have advised in such a case?” asked Mr. Norton, much interested in the little tale.

Master Sunshine looked at him wonderingly.

“Why, father,” he said, “don’t you remember about me breaking the great pane of glass in the schoolhouse window? You lent me the money to pay for having it put in, and I had to give you my allowance for ever so long until I made it all up.”

“But would Tommy’s father have done as much for him?” questioned Mr. Norton.

“If they were chums like you and me I am sure he would,” answered Master Sunshine promptly.

“And do you think Tommy did right to sell his mug?” asked Mr. Norton, much interested as to what his son would say.

“The mug was his own, so I don’t think it was stealing to take it,” said Master Sunshine slowly; “but of course it was not right for him to take it away without letting his people know. There are lots of things in our house that were given to me, and are mine to use and have; but they are not mine to sell and give away like my toys and tops. You never told me so, but I always knew there were two ways of owning things.”

“We have no flowers for mother yet,” said Mr. Norton, dismissing the subject as he rose from the rock on which they had been resting. “I wonder what we can find for her to-day.”

How well they knew where to look, and how many happy exclamations came from Master Sunshine as they discovered a clump of ferns just unfolding from the green balls in which Dame Nature had securely packed them.

In a marshy spot, a host of white violets sent up their dainty perfume; and close by the bed of a tiny brook, a scarlet trilium showed its velvety petals. A sunny hillside was covered with deep purple violets, while under the roadside there were trails of winter-berry vines still green and fresh in spite of the snows that had lain on them; and here and there were the satiny blossoms of the glossy-leaved pigeon-berry.

A pair of keel-tailed blackbirds were building in a tall tree overhead; and the sweet, clear notes of one of them delighted Master Sunshine until he heard the mate answering back with a harsh, scraping noise not unlike a dull saw making its way through a log of knotted wood. A robin gave a mellow chirp; and the Peabody bird was filling the air with its sweet, sad strain.

It was always very hard to leave the woods and fields at such times. They were so full of life and brightness, and there always seemed a special Sunday calm about.

But there were the home people to consider. Lucy would be awake now from her afternoon nap, and would be longing for her romp with her “fazzer man;” and mother would be so delighted with her flowers, and Master Sunshine would be needed to help arrange them; while Almira Jane was sure to be wondering what was keeping “the folks” so late. The Sunday tea would be ready for them too and a specially good tea it always was. There would be slices of cold meat spread on a platter of parsley; and the thinnest slices of bread-and-butter on the best bread-plates, and frosted cake; and, most likely, peach or strawberry preserves from the jam-cupboard.

Almira Jane was sure to be in good humor too; for there was little work to do on Sunday, and she seldom got a chance to be “nervous” on the day of rest, and like as not Jacob would walk home with her after evening church; while in the cosey sitting-room mother would play on the piano, and Master Sunshine and his father would join in singing their favorite hymns.