There was a silence of some moments, then he said in a low tone: “Do you mean me, Miss Endicott?”
“No, I am not quite as impolite as that. I made my remark in a general sense.”
“Suppose some one gave you an article that you did not want?”
“If it was from an equal, and I could decline it, granting that it was perfectly useless, I should do so. But an inferior, or a poorer person, who might have taken a great deal of pains, deserves more consideration.”
“Is it not deceitful to allow them to think they have conferred a benefit upon you?”
“I do not look at it in that light. This person intended a kindness, and I take it at his or her appraisal. I am obliged for the labor and love that went into it, the thought prompting it.”
“Oh,” after a silence.
“And doesn’t that make the good fellowship of the world? When equals exchange small courtesies there is no special merit in it. No self-sacrifice is required, no lifting up of any one, or no going down. The world at large is no better or stronger for the example. It is when we go out of ourselves, make our own patience and generosity and sympathy larger, that we begin to enjoy the giving and doing.”
“But you can not really like poor, ignorant people?”
“Better sometimes than I can like rich, ignorant people. When you walk along the roadside you enjoy the clover blooms, the common daisies and mallows, and every flowering weed. The way gives you its very best. These blossoms laugh and nod and twinkle in the glad sunshine, and you are joyous with them. But if a friend who had a large garden and gardeners in abundance asked you to come, and took you through weedy grass-grown paths, and gathered for you a bunch of field flowers, you would not feel so much obliged.”