“I haven’t walked a step in three months. Edward, my husband, has lifted me in his arms and managed to care for me and the babies. Oh, it is terrible, the way we have been compelled to live.” And sobs again shook the slight frame.
“Never mind,” said Margaret soothingly. “It will be better soon. My rooms are two flights above, so it will be impossible to take you there, but you shall have a comfortable bedroom and kind friends to look after you. I shall be compelled to leave you for a few moments, until I can ask some of these friends to make room for you.”
“Oh, don’t trouble anybody! I can’t bear to be thrown upon charity. It hurts my pride so.”
“We won’t call it charity; we’ll call it love. The love that prompted the Samaritan and a greater than he to moisten parched lips with cooling waters and taught mankind the constant need they have of each other.”
“And do you believe in Him?”
“With an everlasting faith,” answered Margaret.
“I did once until the inhumanity of the world made me doubt.”
“Doubt no longer,” said Margaret, smiling, “for He has raised up succor for you.” With these reassuring words Margaret sought the rooms of several good women of the house, to hold counsel with them and determine the best course to pursue. Margaret’s story evoked such a storm of indignation and invective against the mortgage shark that, if it could have gathered sufficient volume, would have swept the whole guild from the face of the earth. And yet, one and all counselled Margaret not to meddle with the matter.
“You can’t do nothin’ with ’em. They’ve got the power and they know it,” was the unanimous conclusion of the little circle.
“But the injustice of it,” exclaimed Margaret. “I can’t stand tamely by and see a helpless being robbed.”