"All right. You've got a clear head on you. In this way. She's got nothing to gain by it. What she does is done out of pure goodness--not only what she's done for me and my girl, but what she does for every one who's in trouble. There isn't a face that don't light up when she comes by; there isn't a lodging, the commonest you can think of, that isn't brightened when she opens the door. If she was to die to-morrow--the good Lord forbid that she should! but I'm putting it that way to make it plain to you--if she was to die to-morrow, there'd be hundreds of us, men, women, and children, who'd follow her to the grave, and know that they'd lost a friend that could never be replaced. There would be no money to pay for a stone, but she'd have one in our hearts. God Almighty bless her and hers!"
[CHAPTER XXXVI.]
The earnest sincerity of the grateful man shook Mr. Manners to the soul, and for once in his life his self-control slipped from him. He recovered himself quickly, but the impression produced by Mr. Parkinson's words remained.
"You speak," he said, "of a woman and her daughter who have laid you under an obligation--"
"A moment, if you please," interrupted Mr. Parkinson; "I spoke of a lady and her daughter. Mrs. Manners is a lady; we all know that, every one of us, and we've often wondered how she found her way among us, and how it is she is almost as poor as the poorest of us. I object to your calling her a woman in a tone that means, if it means anything, that she is no better than the rest of us. It's clear enough to me that you look down on us. Well, look down. It doesn't hurt us, any more than it's to your credit."
"You are mistaken," said Mr. Manners, gently; "I do not look down on you. I was once a working-man myself." He sighed as he made the admission, at the thought that in those early days when he was struggling and making his way up the ladder he was a happier man than he had ever been since.
"Were you?" exclaimed Mr. Parkinson, in wonder. "Let me think a bit. I remember when I was a boy hearing of a Mr. Manners, a great contractor, who was once no better than a bricklayer, and who had made himself a millionaire by his cleverness. It may be that you're the gentleman."
"I am he."
"I take off my hat to you. I'm not one of the envious ones. You made your money fairly, I've heard, and though you drove hard bargains, you didn't cut down wages."
"That is true. I shall be pleased if yon will reckon it to my credit now."