"There is Martha Hodgson," said she, simply, "and her children, nigh to starving; and I cannot ask Julius for more——"
Judith's purse was out in an instant.
"Why," said she, "my father did not use half of what I gave him for the knife he bought at Warwick—marry, I guess he paid for it mostly himself; but what there is here you shall have."
And she emptied the contents on to the table, and pushed them over to her friend.
"You do not grudge it, Judith?" said Prudence. "Nay, I will not ask thee that. Nor can I refuse it either, for the children are in sore want. But why should you not give it to them yourself, Judith?"
"Why?" said Judith, regarding the gentle face with kindly eyes. "Shall I tell thee why, sweetheart? 'Tis but this: that if I were in need, and help to be given me, I would value it thrice as much if it came from your hand. There is a way of doing such things, and you have it; that is all."
"I hear Julius is come in," Prudence said, as she took up the two candles. "Will you go in and speak with him?"
There was some strange hesitation in her manner, and she did not go to the door. She glanced at Judith somewhat timidly. Then she set the candles down again.
"Judith," said she, "your pity is quick, and you are generous and kind; I would you could find it in your heart to extend your kindness."
"How now, good cousin?" Judith said, in amazement. "What's this?"