“Yes, grannie, you are right. You remember how old dame Hope wouldn’t take the money you offered her, and dropped such a disdainful courtesy. It was SO greedy of her, wasn’t it?”
“I am sorry to hear of any disdainful reception of kindness,” I said.
“Yes, and she had the coolness, within a fortnight, to send up to me and ask if I would be kind enough to lend her half-a-crown for a few weeks.”
“And then it was your turn, grannie! You sent her five shillings, didn’t you?—Oh no; I’m wrong. That was the other woman.”
“Indeed, I did not send her anything but a rebuke. I told her that it would be a very wrong thing in me to contribute to the support of such an evil spirit of unthankfulness as she indulged in. When she came to see her conduct in its true light, and confessed that she had behaved very abominably, I would see what I could do for her.”
“And meantime she was served out, wasn’t she? With her sick boy at home, and nothing to give him?” said Miss Gladwyn.
“She made her own bed, and had to lie on it.”
“Don’t you think a little kindness might have had more effect in bringing her to see that she was wrong.”
“Grannie doesn’t believe in kindness, except to me—dear old grannie! She spoils me. I’m sure I shall be ungrateful some day; and then she’ll begin to read me long lectures, and prick me with all manner of headless pins. But I won’t stand it, I can tell you, grannie! I’m too much spoiled for that.”
Mrs Oldcastle was silent—why, I could not tell, except it was that she knew she had no chance of quieting the girl in any other way.