I saw poor Sam scuttling around a large apple tree quite within hearing of the gardener's voice, and concluded he was another instance of listeners never hearing any good of themselves. I did very little work or reading that day, but watched from the shelter of my window curtains the slowly accumulating pile. Samuel, I noticed, seemed to work with unusual cheerfulness, and even the gardener himself did not empty his basket any oftener than his well-abused help. Mr. Winthrop passed once or twice, and seemed to give directions. I fancied he glanced up to my window as he stood watching them empty their baskets. At luncheon he said:—
"Your pensioners may come this afternoon, and carry away their produce."
"I will let them know immediately."
"Will you go and tell them yourself?" he asked, rather sternly.
"I can do so with all safety; they are perfectly harmless." I gave him a mutinous look, but my heart fluttered; for, in spite of myself, I was very much afraid of my guardian.
"You must not go about from house to house peddling your generosity," he said, sarcastically.
"It is your generosity, Mr. Winthrop," I said gravely; "besides, I do not go to their houses at all. I have only to acquaint Mrs. Blake that your gift is ready for distribution."
"One of the servants will go to Mrs. Blake. You will need all your strength to maintain the proprieties when your ragged crowd comes."
"Have you ever seen the Mill Road people?" I asked abruptly.
"Probably on the streets sometimes; but are they a very distinguished looking crowd, that you ask?"