Her wish would have been to give it silently, with no name, as a secret token of thankfulness for her own preservation. She could be thankful now, feeling that she had been kept to do some work in life which needed to be done. Sometimes, however, it may be a duty to make one's expression of thankfulness a public matter; and in this case the Vicar was anxious to have the influence of her example for others. Mildred yielded to his wish, simply saying, "I will do as you like."
Mrs. Groates, notwithstanding the pull of her boy's accident, persuaded Groates to offer a pound to the fund; and though he made a long face over it, he gave way. Miss Perkins offered another pound, and this again was a matter for general surprise, since she had never been regarded as of a liberal nature, but rather was reckoned to be parsimonious. Jessie, out of her small purse, bestowed half-a-crown; not without a sigh for the pink ribbon which she had intended to buy. And since the giving of the half-crown meant doing without the ribbon, and since she cared a great deal about having the ribbon, her contribution had the added worth which is involved in self-denial.
Old Adams and the fisherman, Robins, would not withhold their little gifts also, though they had already made the much greater offer of themselves for the work of rescue. Nor were Mrs. Stokes and her husband behindhand; and even wee Posie No. 2, with pink cheeks and much excitement, pushed a whole penny into the Vicar's hand. The young Vicar, who dearly loved children, took her into his arms, and kissed the soft little face.
"That penny will surely bring a blessing," he said.
"She's talked of nothing but the boat and the poor sailors, sir, since last Sunday," Mrs. Stokes remarked. "You wouldn't think it, to see her, how Posie listens to the sermons, nor how much she understands and remembers. She's such a little thing, but she's wonderful quick to take in things."
"She isn't too much of a babe to listen to the 'old, old story,' Mrs. Stokes," the Vicar said.
In certain quarters matters went less swimmingly. Mr. Mokes, who was credited with large savings, talked of "hard times," and averred the impossibility of going beyond five shillings; a sum which in his case could by no means be reckoned as anything approaching "widows' mites." The Misses Coxen declared themselves to be unable to give anything at all. Work had been slack lately, they said, and money was short, and it wasn't they who were to blame, but other people who ought to have known better; and if those other people liked to give, the Misses Coxen had nothing to say to it, but as for themselves they just couldn't, and that was all about the matter. Other individuals offered more or less, according to their means, according to the claims upon their purses, and according to the spirit of generosity or the reverse which happened to be theirs.
Mokes' very small gift was a disappointment to the Vicar. It might be that Mokes had not so much laid by as was supposed; but as the longest-established and most successful tradesman in the place, he might have given a good deal more than two half-crowns without being a sufferer from his own liberality. The Vicar had looked for at least five pounds from that quarter; perhaps even ten. He spoke rather plainly to Mokes.
And Mokes rubbed his hands deprecatingly and talked anew of "bad times." "He couldn't afford more," he said, "not just then. Perhaps by-and-by—"
The Vicar knew what that was worth.