"But we ought not to do good things just to have people know them, I suppose; should we?" asked Emma, doubtfully. "I should not think that was right."
"Of course it isn't right. It is just like the Pharisees sounding a trumpet before them," answered Amity, with decision.
"Everybody does, anyhow," persisted Maud. "My mother gave ten dollars and some clothes to the Old Woman's Home, and because it was not put in the paper with the other donations, she said she would never give them anything again. * But, Amity, you are very rich, ain't you?"
* A fact, I am sorry to say.
"I shall be some time, I suppose," said Amity.
"Then I should think you would like to do some grand thing—like building a hospital or an asylum. Just think! You might have a beautiful building on one of the avenues, with your name on it for every one to read when you are dead."
"And what good would that do you?" asked Emma.
"Oh, I don't say I should do it. That is quite another thing," answered Maud, arranging her sash as she spoke. "I believe in using your money for yourself and having a good time. People are never grateful for being helped—ma says so. She said, after Mrs. Franklin went away: 'Well, I only hope they will be grateful, that's all; but I don't expect it;' and she said it was a shame for Mrs. Franklin to impose on you so."
"She doesn't impose on me," said Amity, rather vexed.
"Oh, well! It's all right so long as you don't think so," said Maud, with a disagreeable little laugh. "I should think it a good deal of an imposition if any one was to get all that out of me. Ma says, 'Mrs. Franklin knows which side her bread is buttered.'"