A Bashful Beggar
“It is his diffidence,” the good lady told me, “that has caused the young man to fail dismally in this strenuous age of materialism. His is a gentle spirit!”
At their first meeting, she told me, when he called at her home and asked for something to eat, he appeared so shy and embarrassed that she was immediately interested in him. He blushed and stammered in a most pitiable way, and after he had eaten heartily of the roast beef and potatoes placed before him he wanted to hurry away, hardly having the courage to remain and thank his benefactor.
The good lady told me all this in such a serious manner that I felt I must accept it seriously, and when she suggested that I drive over to a neighboring village to meet the boy at the train, because, being unaccustomed to travel, he could never find his way alone to the Colony, I arranged to meet him.
There are simple-minded men—mental defectives—who are oftentimes helpless as children, and I was inclined to put this boy in that class.
But the lad whom I found waiting for me at the station came out to meet me in a manner so self-possessed that for the instant I was startled. The report of him seemed to be much in error.
“I ought not to have put you to all this trouble,” he said, in ready apology.
“The letter,” I replied, “stated that you might not be able to find your way.”
He gave me a sly, shrewd glance, and then, confident that he was understood, he said simply, “Indeed?”