“And you have taken up their case from pure charity?”
“From pure humanity, rather; as, indeed, I would that another should do for me.”
“Very admirable of you, indeed; but you are doubtless aware that it takes money even to champion the cause of humanity.”
“I am,” said Margaret briefly, though with sinking heart.
“Then you will readily see that I can give you no advice on this matter without cash in hand.”
“How much does it require?”
“In consideration of circumstances, I’ll make it merely nominal. Say five dollars!”
Margaret arose to her feet somewhat unsteadily. “I have but five dollars in my purse, sir,” she explained, “and I shall need it to buy food for the sick woman. I shall be compelled to look further.”
“As you like,” and J. Brown, Attorney, stiffly turned his back on Margaret and returned only a slight acknowledgment of her faint “Good-afternoon.” Somewhat depressed by this encounter, Margaret wandered on and entered no less than six offices, to be met with very nearly the same treatment in every case, and the identical result in all. “The cause of humanity cannot be championed without money!”
These words seemed burned in on Margaret’s brain as she left the last of these offices and stood irresolute and disheartened upon the sidewalk. How could she take the story of failure back to that suffering woman? How could she bear to tell her that the promised succor was only a chimera of her own quixotic brain? “I’ll not do it,” she said resolutely. “I’ll go tell that little sister of mine, and though I know her purse is always low, perhaps her fertile brain may suggest what my own stupefied one fails to apprehend.”