“Richard must never know,” she said; “but I feel bound to do something towards alleviating the distress caused by his obstinacy.”
The result was that soup and bread were supplied, and no one came to the vicarage without getting some assistance.
“Thee’ll give all thee’s got away, and leave nowt for thee sen,” said Mrs Slee to him crossly, when the distribution was over, and the people gone.
“You’re tired,” said the vicar, smiling.
“Nay, I’m not,” said Mrs Slee; “but it makes me mad.”
“What makes you mad?”
“Why, to see you finding money, and trouble, and me helping you, to keep the poor silly women and bairns from pining, when my maister’s doing all he can to keep the men from going to work. It makes me hate my sen.”
“Well, but we can’t help it, Mrs Slee.”
“No,” she retorted; “but half of them don’t deserve it.”
“If we waited to be charitable till only those who deserved it came, Mrs Slee, you need not make so much soup, and shins of beef would not be so scarce.”