“Oh, surely not, certainly not, if people only know of the distress; each one will do a little, and so very little will keep hunger from them,” said Molly confidently.
“Well, I hope so, but unfortunately times are very hard, and these people are strangers, while all Greenfield charity is needed for the well-known poor.”
“Well, I believe in each one doing the duty that lies before him without waiting to see if others do theirs. We are strangers here, too; so perhaps we have the best right to help those like ourselves.”
“But, my dear Molly,” expostulated Harry, “we can but just meet our own expenses.”
“I know, but if there is any real need we must do our part; not as I should like to do it, for to a needy family I would like to give beefsteak and comforts as well as necessities, but that we can’t do. What we can we will. Can we spare a dollar a month, do you think, from our twenty dollars margin?”
“Why, of course, if you say so.”
“I do, if necessary. I will see the woman and judge if the need is very pressing, and then, perhaps, some of our neighbors will do something.”
“You’re a brick, Molly, my dear, but what you may be thinking of I don’t know.”
“If the necessity is great I can do something; if it is not, the woman may despise what I can do.”
No more was said, but next morning, on her way back from the depot, after seeing Harry off, she went to a row of tiny tenements, built on the street through which the railroad passed, evidently the homes of the very poor, and in one of which she was told Mrs. Gibbs was to be found.