“About what, dear?”
“About your giving up half your income, and all that.”
Grandma smiled a little sadly. “Dear child,” she said, “we human beings are far from perfect, even though our standards are as high as we can make them; but there is one thing we can do: we can rout unworthy feelings at their first appearance, and we can be sure that what seems to be our loss is oftener our gain through the development which it brings us and the good which it brings to others. I confess to having had a little pang at giving up some of the riches I have held in trust, but then I considered that all I have is only mine to use for the Master, you know.” And she paused while Persis buried her head in the comforting lap as she sat on the floor by grandma’s chair.
“So,” grandma went on, “it resolved itself into this. A purely selfish consideration was what was troubling me, and that was unworthy of an almoner of my Father. I enjoyed giving because of the recognition to generosity I received, because I was tickled by thanks and pleased by expressions of gratitude; therefore I said to myself, quite likely I am getting to be a self-satisfied old woman, and it is time some one more worthy should have a share in the giving; and then I became quite ashamed of myself, and after I had thought of how my dear sister if she were here would sorrow for the trials and deprivations of her little grand-daughter, I became more ashamed than ever, and now I am very happy to think I can add so much to the comfort of such a worthy descendant of my dear Mary.”
Persis looked up, and her face reflected the exaltation she saw in the one bent over her.
“You can help me much, dear,” grandma went on. “I know the rest must feel somewhat sore over it, although they admit the justice. And you, my dear generous little girl, will do your best not to grumble if you cannot have all you have been used to.”
“Oh, grandma, I will try,” Persis replied, earnestly. “Tell me,” she continued, “did you—did you use to quarrel and say snappy things to each other, you and your sister Mary?”
Grandma sighed. “I am afraid sometimes we did, dear, and if you knew how much I have grieved, all these weary years, over some of the unkind things I have said, you would set a seal upon your lips very often.”
Persis laid hold of her grandmother’s hand sympathetically, and looked up with a penitent look in her gray eyes. “How can I help it, grandma?” she said. “Lisa queens it so, and is so aggravating. She always makes me feel as if I were such an inferior, as if I were a worm of the dust, a regular earthling, and I soar, indeed I do.”
Grandma laughed as much at the phrasing as at the protesting tone. “I don’t doubt you soar, dearie, and it is quite likely that some day your wings will take you longer flights than Lisa dreams of, but it is better to bide your time and prove your right by your deeds, not by your words.”