“We have rather high authority as to the benefit of self-denial,” said the parson.
“A man who can’t sacrifice himself must be selfish,” said Bobby; “and we are all agreed to hate selfish people.”
“And what about the widow’s mite?” said Mrs. Granger.
“That’s all very well, and you may knock me down with the Bible if you like, as you might do also if I talked about pre-Adamite formations. I believe every word of the Bible, but I do not believe that I understand it all thoroughly.”
“You might understand it better if you studied it more,” said the parson.
“Very likely. I won’t be so uncourteous as to say the same thing of my elders. But now about these sacrifices. You wouldn’t wish to keep people in distress that you might benefit yourself by releasing them?”
“But the people in distress are there,” said Nora.
“They oughtn’t to be there; and as your self-sacrifices, after all, are very insufficient to prevent distress, there certainly seems to be a question open whether some other mode should not be tried. Give me the country in which the humanitarian principle is so exercised that no one shall be degraded by the receipt of charity. It seems to me that you like poor people here in England that you may gratify yourselves by giving them, not as much to eat as they want, but just enough to keep their skins from falling off their bones. Charity may have its double blessing, but it may also have its double curse.”
“Not charity, Mr. Frew,” said Mrs. Granger.
“Look at your Lady Bountifuls.”