“I would scarce tell thee to take it, unless I meant it; and, in my opinion, it is very little to give. I cannot see why thee should consider it of any value.”
“But,” went on honest Mabel, “we know it is worth a great deal, for the man who bought the one we saw, said he wouldn’t take fifty dollars for it.”
“And I would not take a hundred dollars for my cat. Besides, I am an old woman, with neither kit nor kin, and when I die, what I have will go to charity; so, if the book is of any use to thee, take it, child; it is a very small thing to me in return for what thee has done.”
Mabel’s radiant face expressed her thanks, without her words. “Now, we must go,” she said, after she had repeated her words of appreciation, again and again. “Oh, see how dark it is getting. Mamma will be dreadfully worried, I’m afraid.”
“Then I’ll not keep thee a moment,” Mrs. Knight said. “Come again, if thee cares to visit an old, lame woman and her cat. I shall be glad to see you both at any time, and if there is anything I can do for either of you, it will give me pleasure to do it.”
They promised to come again, and made their farewells, then set out for the cars.
“Just think,” said Mabel, as they turned the corner, “if we hadn’t stopped to help Mrs. Knight to find her cat, we might never have been able to get the book.”
“That’s what they call ‘bread upon the waters,’” returned Harold, sagely.
Mabel was a little puzzled, until Harold explained what it meant.
“Oh, I suppose it is about the same as ‘one good turn deserves another,’” she decided.