"We hadn't ought to have come in this snow-storm, ma'am," said Mrs. Brooks; "but poor Maria, she couldn't be denied. She said she must come, whether or no. But of course we don't hold you to your promise, ma'am, and I hope you don't think we're that sort of folks."
While Mrs. Brooks was talking, with her nose moving up and down, Maria's face was turned towards Mrs. Allen, her quick ears eager to catch the first sound of her voice. What if the word should be No? But Aunt Madge was never known to break a child's heart.
"Who minds a snow-storm?" said she, gayly. "I love it as well as any snow-bird. I am very sorry you were disappointed the other day. I'll have my wraps on in two minutes."
The children watched from the bay-window as John came round with the carriage, and the three ladies got in.
"She's a rare one," remarked Horace, with a sweep of his thumb.
"Who? Maria?"
"No, Dot; the one in front; the handsomest woman in the city of New York. Tell you what, 'tisn't everybody would go round and look up the poor the way she does; and she rich as mud, too."
"Why, Horace, that's the very reason she ought to do it. What would be the use of her being rich if she didn't?"
"Poh!" said Horace, with a look of unspeakable wisdom. "Much as you know, Prue. Rich people are the stingiest in the world. The fact is, the more you have, the more you don't give away."
"O, what a story!" said Dotty. "The more I have, the more I do—I mean I shall, if I ever get my meeting-house full."