“I am glad to hear,” I said, “that you have such a nice girl for a friend. I suppose it was from her you learnt that it was right to show kindness to those whose lot is less happy than our own.”
Kitty referred to a letter which she had brought with her into the room, and then said:
“To-day Claire and her aunt are bringing fifty children down here to spend the day playing on the beach and paddling in the sea. That will cost a lot and I expect you to subscribe, Uncle John.”
I at once handed Kitty all the money I had in my pocket. She took it without a word of thanks. It was quite a respectable sum, perhaps deserving a little gratitude, but I did not grudge it. I felt I was getting off cheap if I only had to give money. My sister, Kitty’s mother, understood the situation better.
“I suppose I must send down bread and jam,” she said. “Did you say fifty children, Batty?”
“Fifty or sixty,” said Kitty.
“Three pots of jam and ten loaves ought to be enough,” said my sister.
“And cake,” said Kitty. “They must have cake. Uncle John,” she turned to me, “would you rather cut up bread and jam or walk over to the village and bring back twenty-five pounds of cake?”
I was not going to get off so easily as I hoped. The day was hot, far too hot for walking, and the village is two miles off; but I made my choice without hesitation. I greatly prefer heat to stickiness and I know no stickier job than making bread and jam sandwiches.
“If you start at once,” said Kitty, “you’ll be back in time to help me with the bread and jam.”