Mrs. Brown crushed the money in her hand, turned suddenly, and saw Mrs. Green behind one of the window-curtains pursuing a like investigation. She stole forward, leaving Jane Kelly with the half-spread shawl in her hand. Before Mrs. Green became aware of it, the sister was peering over her shoulder.
“Just twenty-five dollars extra for your gross flattery,” she sneered, thrusting her own money out of sight; “I wish you joy of it.”
“Thank you,” said Mrs. Green; “some time, perhaps, you will learn that sweet words pay.”
Mrs. Brown strode solemnly to the other side of the room, took the shawl from Jane Kelly, and wrapped herself in it, Then she drew a heavy knitted hood over her head and marched toward the door, where Mr. Brown stood meekly, holding a pair of rubber shoes in his hand.
“My love, it is snowing; permit me—”
Down upon one knee the man went, and taking up the foot that seemed quivering to spurn him, incased it in the rubber—set it deferentially on the floor, planted the other on his knee, and completed his task with evident pride.
There was a general demand for cloaks, shawls, and hoods after this, and the party broke up.
“My dear, how much?” questioned Mr. Brown with insinuating meekness, as he and his wife went down the steps together.
“Don’t ask me. It’s enough to aggravate a saint. Private charities, indeed, just sending the money back to the Evil One where it came from—then all these riff-raff societies crowding in. The whole thing is just contemptible.”
“Exactly, my love,” replied Mr. Brown, “exactly.”