“Come down in the basement, Tim. I should not wonder if we could find you an outfit. Two boys housekeeping! It’s rather funny!”
Tim scraped and wiped his feet, stood his shovel in the corner of the area, and followed the young lady within. All winter he had been on hand to clean the sidewalk and put in coal. Besides his wages she had given him a few old garments, and his gratitude had touched her. Now she felt rather amused.
Bridget gave him a somewhat unfriendly stare as he entered the kitchen. She never could understand why a lady like Miss May should take fancies “to beggars and that sort of trash.” Dr. May looked rather serious about it, and wished her mother had lived, or that aunt Helen knew how to interest her in other people. He saw quite enough of the misery and wretchedness of the world without having his pretty young daughter breaking her heart over it.
“Come and warm yourself, Tim. Bridget, where are those cracked and checked dishes and old tins I picked out the other day? And there are some chairs down cellar. O, and those old comfortables I laid away.”
“Sure, miss, I was goin’ to ask you if I mightn’t give the dishes to my cousin, Ann Flynn, who is to be married on Sunday night. They’d be a godsend to her.”
“We’ll divide them;” and Miss May smiled.
Bridget very unwillingly opened the closet door. The idea of giving china dishes to a beggar! She grudged everything that could go to a “cousin.”
Miss May picked out two cups and saucers, four plates, two bowls, and several miscellaneous articles, including a block-tin tea-pot and two or three dilapidated tin pails.
“O, Miss May! Why, we’ll feel as grand as kings!” and the eyes were lustrous with gratitude.
“Here’s a basket to pack them in. Bridget, give him a little tea and sugar, and some of the cold meat left yesterday. I’ll run up stairs and find some bed-clothes.”