“Well, my love, we shall see now whether you really wish to do good.”
“O, I am sure I do, Mamma,” interrupted Fanny.
“Then, my love, I think you will cheerfully give some of your own money to the poor woman whom we called on yesterday;—you saw how very ill she was, and how ragged and hungry the poor children looked, because they had nobody to work for them, and take care of them.—Do you think you can afford two shillings, Fanny?”
“O, is that all,” said Fanny, looking very much disappointed.
“You may give as much more as you please, my love; but I thought, perhaps, you could not spare more, as you have not much pocket money.”
“O, no;” said Fanny, hastily, “I cannot afford any more, for I have very little money, very little indeed, just now; but”—
“But what, my love,” said her Mother; “do you feel less generous now than you did a few days ago?”
“No, Mamma, not at all,” said Fanny; “for I was hoping that you were going to say something about the School, and you know that is a much more generous thing.”
“Indeed, Fanny! I must confess I do not think so;—but, on the contrary, I think you would show much more generosity by giving two shillings of your own money to this poor woman, (which you say is as much as you can afford,) than you would, by being governess over six little girls, in a nice snug room, who were to be so good tempered and clever that they would be no trouble to teach, and whose pretty new frocks were to be bought with Papa’s money.—What do you really think, my love?”
Fanny’s eyes filled with tears when she found that she had been totally mistaken in her expectations about the School, and yet she could not help secretly thinking that there was much truth in what her Mother said.—She therefore, after pausing a moment, only said, “I do not know;” in a tone of voice which convinced her Mother that she did know.