Mrs. Brown had no time to waste in talk. Her articles were now ready and packed into the large square basket, for which two of her boys were to call on the way from school. But as she gave a civil "good-day" to Mr. Duff, and stepped into the street, she saw Mr. Burton passing the shop.
The baker saw him too, and wondered if by chance the gentleman had heard his loud-toned remarks, uttered as he followed his customer to the door. He looked disconcerted, and shrank back into his shop, whilst little Mrs. Brown, having the memory of no hard judgments on her conscience, dropped a respectful courtesy, and received a pleasant greeting from the owner of the Hall. As she walked briskly homeward she thought to herself, "Mr. James may be free-handed, as Duff says, and he may give so as to make a great show with very little money; for, after all, it was only a matter of ninepence that he gave to old Ann Willis and Dick Pearson. As to the sixpence, he might as well have thrown it into the gutter as given it to the poor old creature, who would be safe to spend it so as to do herself harm. Mr. James knows what she is. Dick Pearson is a bit proud in his way, and though Duff might think it generous of Mr. James to give him money for a pint of beer, I believe Dick would have sooner he had let it alone. Mr. Burton gives in a sensible way, both to do good and to please those he helps, and he makes no fuss about it. Duff may say what he likes, but he would never persuade me that he is one of the selfish sort, though I have only little things to go by."
Certain familiar words came into Mrs. Brown's mind as she went on her way, "When thou doest alms let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth."
Maybe neither of the brothers' little gifts could be called almsgiving; but, thought Mrs. Brown, "They show the spirit of the two gentlemen. One is for letting all the world see if he gives a copper; the other cares that his gifts shall be such as his Father which is in heaven will approve of."
Mrs. Brown was right. The one brother desired the good opinion of men, the other to act as in the sight of God.
[CHAPTER II.]
MISTAKEN KINDNESS.
CHRISTMAS was drawing near. Only a fortnight off. Winter had begun early, the ground was hard with frost, and a bitter north-east wind was making itself felt through every crevice. Old folk and little children shrank before it and cowered by the hearths, where, alas! in many a home both fire and food were scarce.
Strong men faced the cutting blast, and wandered many a mile in search of work, only to come back disappointed, footsore, weary in body and faint in heart. Wives met them at the threshold, and needed not to ask, "How have you fared?" They saw and read in their husbands' faces a tale of strength spent in vain and hope disappointed. And, poor things! many amongst them strove to smile a welcome, in spite of heavy hearts and sad forebodings. Such went hungry themselves in order to spread something like a meal for the tired wayfarer, whose only longing was for work, which he could not get, and the chance to win with his strong, willing hands, bread for wife and children.
"It will be a hard winter in-doors and out. God help us," were words uttered by many a tongue, and the thought was in many a heart that did not give it utterance, for fear of distressing still more those who were already sad enough at the prospect before them.