“You are very good,” said Mrs. Waldorf, who had listened in a kind of reverie, her thoughts reverting to her lonely rides.
“Oh no, ma’am! it’s far from good I am! The Lord knows that! But a little bit of neighborly kindness like that, is what the poor often does for one another, and don’t think any thing of it, neither! To be sure this babe’s mother isn’t the likes of me, ma’am, but she’s far worse off than she has been. Her husband is what they call an accountant—a kind of clerk, like; and he can’t get no employ, and I think it’s breakin’ his heart pretty fast.”
Here Mrs. Waldorf fairly burst into tears. “Tell me where you live,” she said, “and say nothing to this lady you speak of, but come to me to-morrow, will you?” and she put a card into the poor woman’s hand.
“Surely I will, ma’am,” said the washerwoman, “and it’s a kind heart you have!”
Mrs. Waldorf rode home with her heart and head full. “How could I ever content myself with giving money,” she said to herself, “when there is so much to be done!”
“How do you find yourself, this morning, my dear madam?” said Doctor R——, shortly after this.
“Oh, quite well, thank you!”
“What! no more lassitude! no more headaches.”
“Nothing of the sort, I assure you! I never felt better.”