Free Saints by Orson Scott Card

himself, and it made him try all the harder to bring her to herself. He went back and forth to the well to bring cool water and bathe her fevered face and arms. He kept silent for hours once, and another time kept up a constant stream of talk. When he was silent she grew afraid and began to cry out; when he talked she seemed to become confused, and tossed and turned until he thought she would throw herself from the bed in her writhing.
    By the time Robert brought Mr. Whitesides, Charlie was so filled with guilt for his mother’s suffering that he was ready to do anything that might help. He did not notice that Robert approached the subject cautiously; it did not occur to him that Robert was afraid he would say no. For, inadvertently, Robert began the conversation in such a way that Charlie could not refuse.
    “Charlie, since Mother’s been so sick she’s had no wages, and with her wages stopped we’ll soon be out on the streets to starve unless we can do something to take up the slack.”
    Charlie, obsessed as he was with his mother’s condition, immediately imagined her, delirious and raving and burning up with fever, forced to sit in the road and beg.
    “There’s a man, Charlie, who’s willing to take you for an apprentice. He’ll feed and shelter you, and train you for a trade.”
    “Will I have wages, then?” Charlie asked.
    Robert shook his head. “You’re too young for wages, Charlie, only eight years old; you wouldn’t earn enough to pay for what you eat. But if you go with Mr. Whitesides, you’ll at least stop eating up part of our little money here. That’ll be a help.”
    And, miserably, Charlie agreed. The best thing he could do would be to leave, to stop harming his mother, to stop costing them money. Robert only confirmed what he had already feared: that he caused more harm than good in the family. “I’ll go,” Charlie said.
    Then Robert went downstairs and brought Whitesides up with him. The man was tall and thin and wore a coal-black suit that didn’t fit him and a top hat that looked to be the perfect home for lice. His hair was also black, and his skin was dark and stained.
    Whitesides was all business. He smiled and shook Charlie’s hand briskly, then said to Robert, “All right, I need the mother’s permission, the boy can’t do it.”
    “She’s asleep,” Charlie said.
    Whitesides smiled broadly. “And I’d never think of interrupting her slumber, lad, except that it’s a Sunday, and it costs me money to be standing about on a Sunday.”
    Robert nodded and went to the bed where Anna lay. He touched her gently, then shook her until her eyes opened. Charlie knew immediately that she did not know what she was about—she had one of the looks of madness on her. But only he would know that. Dinah and Robert hadn’t been around her enough since the birth to know.
    “Mother?”
    “Hmmm?”
    “This is Mr. Whitesides, Mother.”
    She giggled. “Such a bright name for so dark a man.”
    “Mother, Mr. Whitesides is in the chimney-cleaning business.”
    “A sweep?”
    Whitesides raised his hands in genial protest. “Oh, no, ma’am, a director of sweeps, a superintendent of sweeps, but never a sweep myself. I’m much too big for the chimneys anymore.” So it was that Charlie first learned what trade Robert had chosen for him for the rest of his life.
    Anna smiled bashfully and touched her hair. “Robert, how can you bring me company to see me in bed? I must look like a monster from the deep.”
    “Not at all, ma’am,” said Whitesides. “Charming to the core. Boy here says you have a sweep to give me.”
    Robert interrupted. “Charlie, Mother. He’s still small. Mr. Whitesides is willing to take him on as an apprentice.”
    “My Charlie, a sweep?”
    “It’s not a bad life,” Whitesides said, and as he talked his hands came alive and inscribed spiderwebs in the air. “The boys earns an honest living during the working days, and in the schoolish time of year I sends