Chapter 15

‘Perhaps,’ mumbled Peter vaguely. ‘Whatever he meant, that was what he said. Adiel must have thought he believed the child was sleeping, for she burst out crying and shook her head. “No, Master!” she sobbed. “My precious Sharon is gone!” With that, he leaned forward, patted the little girl gently on the cheek, and said, “Come, Sharon, awake!”‘

The Big Fisherman’s voice was unsteady: he noisily cleared his throat to control it.

‘It was all very touching,’ he went on huskily. ‘Little Sharon slowly opened her eyes; and as Adiel flung herself down by the bedside with a cry of joy, the child smiled sleepily and said, barely above a whisper, “There were beautiful flowers, everywhere, just as he told us.”‘

‘It was a dream,’ thought Andrew.

‘Who can say?’ murmured Peter. After an interval of silence, he added, ‘As for me—I think the child was dead!’

They had sat transfixed through this recital. Now that the strange story was ended, they stirred.

‘What are we supposed to do now?’ inquired Philip. ‘Did the Master tell you?’

‘He spends the night at the house of Jairus,’ said Peter. ‘Tomorrow he will rest here at the cottage. He is very tired. The next day we start back to Cana, though we are to make camp that night at Hammath.’

‘But why does he stop at Hammath,’ queried James, ‘when so many people are waiting for him in Cana?’

‘Yes—and a great crowd will doubtless follow him from Capernaum and along the way,’ said Philip. ‘He will be forced to speak at Hammath, and that will be wearisome.’

‘Well,’ said Peter, ‘be that as it may. We’re stopping at Hammath.’

‘I think I shall go back to Bethsaida,’ announced Andrew, rising. ‘I should like to see Hannah before we leave.’

‘I shouldn’t object to sleeping in a bed tonight, myself,’ said Peter. ‘Tell Hannah to expect me for supper. I shall be over there—in a couple of hours. I have promised old Manasseh that I would talk with him. He wants to lease one of the ships—just for the summer, of course.’

‘Not The Abigail!’ protested Thaddeus.

The Big Fisherman patted Thad on the shoulder, but did not reply. The company was breaking up now. At the door, Thomas remarked, to no one in particular, ‘I can’t understand why the Master wants to leave Capernaum, now that Jairus is solidly behind him—and the people are so anxious to have him stay.’

‘Don’t forget,’ admonished Peter, ‘that we couldn’t understand why he wanted to leave Cana and come to Capernaum.’

‘That was different,’ mumbled Thomas. ‘He felt that he was urgently needed here.’

‘Perhaps he feels that he is now needed elsewhere,’ observed Andrew; to which James added, ‘I don’t believe he cares very much whether we understand him or not.’

‘You’re quite right, Jimmie,’ rumbled old Bartholomew. ‘He’s teaching us to have faith in him.’

‘But—can’t a man have faith and understanding too?’ argued Thomas.

‘No!’ declared Bartholomew bluntly. ‘That’s what faith is for, my son. It’s for when we can’t understand.’

‘That’s true!’ approved Peter. ‘When a man understands, he doesn’t need any faith.’

‘I don’t like to be kept in the dark,’ put in Philip.

‘If a man has enough faith,’ replied Peter, ‘he can find his way in the dark—with faith as his lamp.’