And yet, whilst there was so much that was sorrowful in many a poor home, it might have made angels rejoice to see the little acts of kindness that the inmates showed one to another. Little, if looked at apart from their surroundings. Great, when one saw what they cost to the self-devoting souls who out of their penury ministered to those who were in bitterer straits than themselves. The best morsel would be taken from the lips for a neighbour's sick child; a share of a scanty meal given, where the cupboard in some other poor home was quite empty, and kindly words and deeds were never lacking.
Only God knew what some apparently small gifts cost to those who bestowed them, but how sweet to think that Our Father does know all things, even the very thoughts of our hearts!
There were many sufferers at Halesford, the little country town where Mr. Duff dispensed his loaves and his opinions to all comers alike. There were not so many customers passing in and out as in more prosperous times, and some of those who entered the shop came empty-handed to ask for credit until better times.
Mr. Duff rarely refused this. Halesford working men were none of your runagates, here to-day and gone to-morrow, but mostly steady-going folk, who spent their lives within a narrow circle and knew little of the world beyond. Duff was a man of some capital, and not unkindly in the main. He was rather proud of being able to give credit, and would say, "I can afford to wait for my money, so long as I know who I am trusting."
Many of the customers had to wait for their loaves too, whilst Duff held forth on his favourite subjects. One of these was the absence of Mr. Burton.
The owner of Halesford Hall had been from home for some weeks. "Called to furrin parts, they say, by urgent business. Very convenient at a time like this, when he could not well be amongst all this distress without putting his hand in his pocket," said Mr. Duff, bitterly. "It's a shame, a burning shame, that the biggest landowner in the neighbourhood should keep out of the way, at the time of all others when he should be doing his duty to his neighbours. I can only give a little, but I can trust you folks that want a bit o' credit, and I hope those in the meat and grocery lines will do the same."
Mr. James Burton was at home. His house was a small one in comparison with the Hall, but, if report said truly, it abounded in creature comforts.
"Mine is a little nutshell of a place," Mr. James would say in his airy fashion, "but big enough to hold an old bachelor and his few traps. 'Man wants but little here below,' you know, Mr. Duff. The 'dry morsel,' the 'dinner of herbs' and quietness are better than the 'stalled ox' under certain circumstances."
Mr. James Burton looked meaningly, and nodded as if he would express volumes by the movement of his head, and Mr. Duff felt gratified at what sounded to him like a confidential remark.
He could not quite see the drift of Mr. James's words, though he was, as the baker subsequently put it, "quoting Scripture like a parson."