“Do I? I shouldn’t ought to, I’m sure, for there’s more blessin’s than sorrows in my cup,” said Liz.
“Just you put another lump o’ sugar in my cup, anyhow,” returned her friend. “I likes it sweet, Liz. Thank ’ee. But what ’as ’appened to you?”
Old Liz explained her circumstances in a pitiful tone, yet without making very much phrase about it, though she could not refrain from expressing wonder that her railway dividends had dwindled down to nothing.
“Now look ’ee here, chimley-pot Liz,” cried Mrs Rampy in a fierce voice, and bringing her clenched fist down on the table with a crash that made the tea-cups dance. “You ain’t the only ’ooman as ’as got a tea-pot.”
She rose, took a masculine stride towards a cupboard, and returned with a tea-pot of her own, which, though of the same quality as that of her friend, and with a similarly broken spout, was much larger. Taking off the lid she emptied its contents in a heap—silver and copper with one or two gold pieces intermixed—on the table.
“There! Them’s my savin’s, an’ you’re welcome to what you need, Liz. For as sure as you’re alive and kickin’, if you’ve got into the ’ands of Skinflint Lockhart, ’e’ll sell you up, garding an’ all! I know ’im! Ah—I know ’im. So ’elp yourself, Liz.”
Tears rose to the eyes of old Liz, and her heart swelled with joy, for was there not given to her here unquestionable evidence of her success in the application of loving-kindness? Assuredly it was no small triumph to have brought drunken, riotous, close-fisted, miserly, fierce Mrs Rampy to pour her hard-won savings at her feet, for which on her knees she thanked God that night fervently. Meanwhile, however, she said, with a grave shake of her head—
“Now, Mrs Rampy, that is uncommon good of you, an’ I would accept it at once, but I really won’t require it, for now that Susy’s father ’as returned, I can borrow it from him, an’ sure he’s better able to lend it than you are. Now, don’t be angry, Mrs Rampy, but—’ave some more tea?”
While she was speaking her friend shovelled the money back into the teapot with violence, and replaced it in her cupboard with a bang.
“You won’t git the hoffer twice,” she said, sitting down again. “Now, Liz, let’s ’ave another cup, an’ don’t spare the sugar.”