Friends and Neighbors | Page 5

"I guess I'll take it," said I, laying the money on the shopkeeper's
counter.
"I'd better have paid Mrs. Blake." This thought crossed my mind, an
hour afterwards, by which time the little ornament had lost its power of
pleasing. "So much would at least have been saved."
I was leaving the table, after tea, on the evening that followed, when
the waiter said to me,
"Mrs. Blake is at the door, and wishes to see you."
I felt a little worried at hearing this; for I had no change in my pockets,
and the poor washerwoman had, of course, come for her money.
"She's in a great hurry," I muttered to myself, as I descended to the
door.
"You'll have to wait until you bring home my clothes next week, Mrs.
Blake. I haven't any change, this evening."
The expression of the poor woman's face, as she turned slowly away,
without speaking, rather softened my feelings.
"I'm sorry," said I, "but it can't be helped now. I wish you had said, this
morning, that you wanted money. I could have paid you then."
She paused, and turned partly towards me, as I said this. Then she
moved off, with something so sad in her manner, that I was touched
sensibly.
"I ought to have paid her this morning, when I had the change about me.
And I wish I had done so. Why didn't she ask for her money, if she
wanted it so badly?"
I felt, of course, rather ill at ease. A little while afterwards I met the
lady with whom I was boarding.
"Do you know anything about this Mrs. Blake, who washes for me?" I
inquired.
"Not much; except that she is very poor, and has three children to feed
and clothe. And what is worst of all, she is in bad health. I think she

told me, this morning, that one of her little ones was very sick."
I was smitten with a feeling of self-condemnation, and soon after left
the room. It was too late to remedy the evil, for I had only a sixpence in
my pocket; and, moreover, did not know where to find Mrs. Blake.
Having purposed to make a call upon some young ladies that evening, I
now went up into my room to dress. Upon my bed lay the spotless linen
brought home by Mrs. Blake in the morning. The sight of it rebuked me;
and I had to conquer, with some force, an instinctive reluctance, before
I could compel myself to put on a clean shirt, and snow-white vest, too
recently from the hand of my unpaid washerwoman.
One of the young ladies upon whom I called was more to me than a
mere pleasant acquaintance. My heart had, in fact, been warming
towards her for some time; and I was particularly anxious to find
favour in her eyes. On this evening she was lovelier and more attractive
than ever, and new bonds of affection entwined themselves around my
heart.
Judge, then, of the effect produced upon me by the entrance of her
mother--at the very moment when my heart was all a-glow with love,
who said, as she came in--
"Oh, dear! This is a strange world!"
"What new feature have you discovered now, mother?" asked one of
her daughters, smiling.
"No new one, child; but an old one that looks more repulsive than
ever," was replied. "Poor Mrs. Blake came to see me just now, in great
trouble."
"What about, mother?" All the young ladies at once manifested unusual
interest.
Tell-tale blushes came instantly to my countenance, upon which the
eyes of the mother turned themselves, as I felt, with a severe scrutiny.
"The old story, in cases like hers," was answered. "Can't get her money
when earned, although for daily bread she is dependent on her daily
labour. With no food in the house, or money to buy medicine for her
sick child, she was compelled to seek me to-night, and to humble her
spirit, which is an independent one, so low as to ask bread for her little
ones, and the loan of a pittance with which to get what the doctor has
ordered her feeble sufferer at home."
"Oh, what a shame!" fell from the lips of Ellen, the one in whom my

heart felt more than a passing interest; and she looked at me earnestly
as she spoke.
"She fully expected," said the mother, "to get a trifle that was due her
from a young man who boards with Mrs. Corwin; and she went to see
him this evening. But he put her off with some excuse. How strange
that any one should be so thoughtless as to withhold from the poor their
hard-earned pittance! It is but a small sum at best,