“Or for me, Mama, maybe.”
“No, dear Beatrice, for Steenie. Surely you do not wish to take her beloved horse away from her?”
“No, course I don’t; but, you see, I thought maybe that old Madam lady would say she couldn’t have him. ’Cause she ’peared to me’s if she liked to be kind of mis’able an’ give up things. Same’s I don’t.”
“Beatrice!”
“The child is right. Madam Calthorp is a fine woman, but she is as proud as Lucifer. He had to tumble, and she will, or I’m mightily mistaken. It takes a very noble nature to accept favors graciously; and she had an idea that I was conferring, or trying to confer, a favor, which I was not at all. I think it would be the best thing ever happened in this locality, and to the dumb beasts in it, if that blessed, loving little thing could have a chance to preach to us in her innocent way. I mean she shall yet, too! And I suppose that to have a little girl earn anything towards the family support was a bitter motion, also.”
“The most bitter, I think, husband. However, we can do nothing more. But we must have Steenie at Rookwood as much as possible. If one is bound to be kind and helpful one can generally find a way, though not always the way first chosen. Remember that, Beatrice, and be watchful for Steenie’s happiness.”
“Yes, Mama, I think somebody ought to watch it; ’cause herself’s bein’ comf’table is the last thing she cares about.”
“That’s right, my darling,” said the mother, fondly, as she alighted to pay her second call, and thinking very tenderly of the other little girl who had never known the sweetness of a mother’s commendation.
Meanwhile, at the house in High Street, a few earnest words had been said by blind Daniel Calthorp, which touched, if they did not convince, the proud heart of its mistress.
“The scheme is not as wild as it seems, dear mother. If you could see my darling among her friends, the horses, you would understand.”