Where there is suffering
there has been sin somewhere. And where there is sin there will be
suffering. You can't get these two things apart. Now," he went on, "you
have done wrong. And I am in this home like God is in the world. So we
will do this. You go up to the attic. I'll make a pallet for you there.
We'll take your meals up to you at the regular times, and you stay up
there as long as you've been a living lie--three days and three nights."
And Phil didn't say a word. They went up stairs, the pallet was made,
and the father kissed his boy and left him alone with his thoughts.
Supper time came, and the father and mother sat down to eat. But they
couldn't eat for thinking about the boy. The longer they chewed upon the
food, the bigger and dryer it got in their mouths. And swallowing it was
clear out of the question. Then they went into the sitting room for the
evening. He picked up the evening paper to read, and she sat down to
sew. Well, his eyes weren't very good. He wore glasses. And this evening
he couldn't seem to see distinctly--the glasses seemed blurred. It must
have been the glasses, of course. So he took them off and cleaned them
very deliberately and then found that he had been holding the paper
upside down. And she tried to sew.
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