“We are not in the habit,” said the latter, “of giving money; but whatever food you may require will be cheerfully given.”
“I don’t want any food,” said the woman, abruptly. “You talk as if victuals was the only thing one could need. I have had something to eat already. I want money, I tell you.”
“Then why don’t you work for it?” asked the lady, somewhat offended at the boldness of her speech.
“Because I don’t see why I should work my life out while others are living in plenty. There are plenty of fine ladies who wouldn’t lift their fingers if it was to save a life. Am I not as good as they? Why, then, should they fare any better than I?”
“That I do not pretend to say. I only know that he is most happy who strives to content himself with that station in which the Almighty has placed him.”
“Oh! it is all very well for those to talk of being contented who have every thing to make them so. Very praiseworthy it is, to be sure!” said the woman, laughing scornfully.
The violence of her language increased to such an extent, that Mrs. Gregory—for it was she—found it necessary to order her to leave the house. She did so, but not without many imprecations. As she strode along with hasty steps, she espied by the roadside a little girl, holding in her hand a flower that she had just plucked.
“Isn’t it pitty?” said the child, holding it up.
A thought struck the woman, and she arrested her steps.