“Aunt Sophie? Who is she, child?”
“Mrs. Downie. My good landlady. She is a Methodist minister’s widow. She keeps a plain boarding-house, mostly for young ministers and teachers. She is very poor, but very charitable, and when she sees a poor, pale, ragged child on the streets trying to make a few pennies by selling matches or pins, she often takes such a child to its own home to see for herself into its circumstances and find out how she can permanently benefit it. She has adopted and brought up several of these forlorn children, and settled them respectably in life. She has always one or two on hand. She has one even now. Oh! if I had only plenty of money I would found a home for destitute children. I would set Aunt Sophie at its head with the carte blanche to take in all the needy children that the home could hold.”
“But there are so many of these asylums, my dear.”
“I know; but there are not enough, else why these poor, little, homeless and friendless ones in the street?”
“Well, petite, I do not feel just yet quite inspired to found such an institution, but, before we sail, I will place in your good Aunt Sophie’s hands a sum of money to aid her charitable work among the friendless children of the street,” said the baroness.
“Will you? Oh, will you, indeed? If you do, you will make a good heart so glad!” exclaimed Lilith, with a beaming face.
“I will, indeed! I will send Le Grange to the house with the check to-morrow,” said the lady.
“Oh! give it with your own hand, dear madame, and you will see what joy you will bring into the dear woman’s face.”
“I hear what joy I bring into your voice, little one, and I am glad to hear it,” replied the baroness.
In her deep interest in the subject under discussion, Lilith had for the moment forgotten her own griefs.