"It ought not to be so difficult."
She smiled at him soberly.
"Charity isn't merely giving money, Jerry," she said. "Money sometimes does more harm than good."
"I can't see that."
"It's quite true. We try to keep people from being dependent. What you propose is a kind of philanthropic chaos. If I used your money as freely as you would like, it wouldn't be long before half the people in my district would be living on you—giving nothing—no effort, no work, no self-respect in return. You don't mind if I say so, but that sort of thing isn't charity, Jerry. It's merely sentimental tomfoolery which might by accident do some good, but would certainly do much harm."
Jerry's eyes opened wide as he listened. She was frank enough, but I couldn't help admitting to myself that she was quite wise. Jerry was discovering that it wasn't so easy to help as he had supposed. Whatever he may have thought of her theories of social science, he made no comment upon them.
"Then you won't let me help you?" he asked quite meekly, for Jerry.
"Oh, no," she smiled coolly. "I didn't say that. I was merely trying to show you what the difficulties are. We're very glad to get voluntary contributions when we're sure just what we can do with them. I know of several cases now—"
"Yes," eagerly. "Whatever you need—"
"But five thousand—"