Virginia, agitated by the intenseness of the other’s feelings, watched in silence.
Mrs. Curtis had forgotten her visitor now. She was thinking aloud. “What a happy day it will be for Joe and Charles and me,” she murmured,–“the happiest since my husband died.”
The gladness of the other thrilled the girl.
Like a flash there came a change in Mrs. Curtis’s mood. Her joy came into conflict with a defiant pride. Her face became cold and hard. “It’s charity,” she wailed, “just plain charity. Am I a beggar now?”
She turned furiously upon Virginia, transformed by passion, “If my husband had lived–if I, a weak woman, had been given a fair chance to make an honest living in this land of the free,” she sneered, “I too would ride in my automobile in silks and diamonds and extend charity to the poor. If there were justice among men I would not be in a position where people could offer me charity.”
A bewildered Virginia listened timidly as the woman, almost beside herself, went on, “There is no justice–there is no right,” Her eyes seemed ablaze to the startled girl. She thrust her arms above her head. “The wicked prosper and the good are ruined. It’s all wrong–wickedly wrong,” she screamed and, rushing into an adjoining room, cast herself across the bed, sobbing convulsively.
Amazed at the effect of Hennie’s letter, Virginia was tempted to run away. She hesitated, however. Through the doorway she could see the shaking form of Joe’s mother upon the bed. Quickly the passion died out of the sobs of the weeping woman and in its place came a note of pathetic helplessness which clutched at the girl’s heart and seemed to call her.
In a moment Virginia was at the side of the bed. Leaning over, she took one of the toil worn hands into her own. There came an answering pressure and the girl seated herself by the bed-side holding the knotted fingers in her own. The sobs lessened, the quivering form became calmer, and at length Mrs. Curtis sat up and raised wet eyes to those of her visitor. “You must think me lacking in appreciation of the generosity of your friends,” she choked, still shaken by the reflex of her sobs. “It’s not true, though. That was a display of my silly pride. It’s about all that I have left of the happiest days of my life. Forget my words, dear, and forgive me. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for what you have done for my boy and me. To have him walk without a crutch, on my hands and knees I’d scrub the most crowded street in the world. There is no humiliation too great for me to undergo for him. I would glory in it.” In the glow of mother love her face softened and became beautiful. Now she seemed to grasp the full significance of the news and to be filled with unrest as if afraid that the opportunity might escape. “When can we go?” she worried–“tomorrow?”
“Today, if you wish,” Virginia explained.
Her woes cast aside and filled with excitement, Mrs. Curtis dried her tears and returned to the other room with the girl. Through the window Charles Augustus could be seen hobbling about in a game with the active Helen. His mother watched his awkward movements intently for a moment. “In a few months he will be running about without the crutch,” she whispered and, swinging about, she seized Virginia by her shoulders, looked deep into her eyes as she murmured gently, “May God bless you and yours for what you are doing for me and mine, and may happiness be yours and theirs until the end of time.”