“The money you left with me for Harry Winburn. I thought at the time that most probably he would not take it.”
“But are you sure he doesn't want it? Did you try hard to get him to take it?” said Tom, holding out his hand reluctantly for the money.
“Not myself. I couldn't offer him money myself, of course; but I sent it by David, and begged him to do all he could to persuade him to take it.”
“Well, and why wouldn't he?”
“Oh, he said the club-money which was coming in was more than enough to pay for the funeral and for himself he didn't want it.”
“How provoking! I wonder if old David really did his best to get him to take it.”
“Yes, I am sure he did. But you ought to be very glad to find some independence in a poor man.”
“Bother his independence! I don't like to feel that it costs me nothing but talk—I want to pay.”
“Ah, Tom, if you knew the poor as well as I do, you wouldn't say so. I am afraid there are not two other men in the parish who would have refused your money. The fear of undermining their independence takes away all my pleasure in giving.”
“Undermining! Why, Katie, I am sure I have heard you mourn over their stubbornness and unreasonableness.”