“The Vails!” gasped Helen. (Mr. Vail was the village dairyman, whose farm lay on the outskirts of the town; the village dairyman's family was not one that Helen cared to visit.)
“My love,” said Mr. Davis, “poor Mrs. Vail has been very ill, and she has three little children, you know. You told me that you liked to bring joy wherever you could.”
“Yes, but, Daddy,” protested Helen, “those children are dirty! Ugh! I saw them as I came by.”
“My love,” answered the other, “they are God's children none the less; and we cannot always help such things.”
“But we can, Daddy; there is plenty of water in the world.”
“Yes, of course; but when the mother is ill, and the father in trouble! For poor Mr. Vail has had no end of misfortune; he has no resource but the little dairy, and three of his cows have been ill this spring.”
And Helen's incorrigible mirth lighted up her face again. “Oh!” she cried. “Is that it! I saw him struggling away at the pump as I came by; but I had no idea it was anything so serious!”
Mr. Davis looked grieved; Helen, when her first burst of glee had passed, noticed it and changed her mood. She put her arms around her father's neck and pressed her cheek against his.
“Daddy, dear,” she said coaxingly, “haven't I done charity enough for one day? You will surfeit me at the start, and then I'll be just as little fond of it as I was before. When I must let dirty children climb all over me, I can dress for the occasion.”
“My dear,” pleaded Mr. Davis, “Godliness is placed before Cleanliness.”