She came to the fence and looked over. This time she did not fix her gaze above the heads of the two little girls, but she gave no sign of recognition. “What babies are those?” she asked.
“They are Mrs. McGonigle’s,” answered Elizabeth.
“Who is she?”
“Well, she washes for us,” returned Elizabeth. “She lives in that little white house near the blacksmith’s shop. She is very poor, and has a great many children. Her husband is a poor weakly soul.”
“Humph!” Miss Darby gave the exclamation in her scornful way. “Bring the babies over here,” she ordered.
The two little girls lugged their charges over to the fence, where Miss Darby viewed them critically. “They are very dirty,” she said disgustedly. “Will you tell me what you are doing with them away up here?”
“We thought we would take them for a walk,” said Betsy. “Their mother is washing, and we thought it would be doing good to help her.”
A quizzical look came into Miss Darby’s eyes. “I think in your case charity should begin at home,” she said. “I never touch the babies at our Home till the nurses have given them a good bath and have made them perfectly clean. You might contract anything, any sort of disease. Those old filthy shawls are probably reeking with germs. I would advise you to take the babies back to their mother and then go home and change your clothes. I hope neither of you will venture near Ruth till you have done so.”
Meekly the two little girls walked away. Their sacrifice had brought them blame instead of praise, and they felt quite downcast. Neither spoke for some time, then Elizabeth said: “Well, at least she spoke to us and looked at us as if we were human beings and not beetles or caterpillars.”
This remark broke up regrets and the two laughed; then, having reached the waiting baby carriage, the twins were snugly tucked in and were cheerfully wheeled home to their mother.