Robert Hardys Seven Days | Page 4

to another, then he does not know the power
that selfishness can exercise over the actions of men. Mr. Hardy had
one supreme law which he obeyed, and that law was self.
Again Mrs. Hardy, who rarely ventured to oppose her husband's wishes,
turned to the piano and struck a few chords aimlessly. Then she
wheeled about and said abruptly:
"Robert, the cook gave warning tonight that she must go home at
once."
Mr. Hardy had begun to doze a little, but at this sudden statement he sat
up and exclaimed:
"Well, you are the bearer of bad news to-night, Mary! What's the
matter with everybody? I suppose the cook wants more pay."
Mrs. Hardy replied quietly: "Her sister is dying. And do you know, I
believe I have never given the girl credit for much feeling. She always
seemed to me to lack there, though she is certainly the most faithful and
efficient servant we ever had in the house. She came in just after Mr.
Burns left, and broke down, crying bitterly. It seems her sister is
married to one of the railroad men here in town, and has been ailing
with consumption for some months. She is very poor, and a large

family has kept her struggling for mere existence. The cook was almost
beside herself with grief as she told the story, and said she must leave
us and care for her sister, who could not live more than a week at the
longest. I pitied the poor girl. Robert, don't you think we could do
something for the family? We have so much ourselves. We could easily
help them and not miss a single luxury."
"And where would such help end? If we give to every needy person
who comes along we shall be beggars ourselves. Besides, I can't afford
it. The boys are a heavy expense to me while they are in college, and
the company has been cutting down salaries lately. If the cook's sister is
married to a railroad man, he is probably getting good wages and can
support her all right."
"What if that railroad man were injured and made a cripple for life?"
inquired Mrs. Hardy quietly.
"Then the insurance companies or the societies can help them out. I
don't see how we can make every case that comes along our care. There
would be no end of it if we once began."
"As nearly as I can find out," continued Mrs. Hardy, without replying
to her husband's remarks, "cook's sister is married to one of the men
who was hurt this afternoon. She talks so brokenly in our language that
I could not make out exactly how it is; and she was much excited.
Suppose it was Scoville: couldn't you do something for them then,
Robert?"
"I might," replied Mr. Hardy briefly. "But I can tell you, I have more
calls for my money now than I can meet. Take the church expenses for
example. Why, we are called upon to give to some cause or other every
week, besides our regular pledges for current expenses. It's a constant
drain. I shall have to cut down on my pledge. We can't be giving to
everything all the time, and have anything ourselves."
Mr. Hardy spoke with a touch of indignation. His wife glanced around
the almost palatial room and smiled; then her face grew a little stern
and almost forbidding, as she remembered that only last week her

husband had spent $150 for a new electrical apparatus to experiment
with in his laboratory. And now he was talking hard times, and
grudging the small sums he gave to religious objects in connection with
his church, and thinking he could not afford to help the family of a man
who had once saved his life.
Again she turned to the piano and played a while, but she could not be
rested by the music as sometimes she had been. When she finally arose
and walked over by the table near the end of the lounge, Mr. Hardy was
asleep, and she sat down by the table gazing into the open fire drearily,
a look of sorrow and unrest on the face still beautiful but worn by years
of disappointment and the loss of that respect and admiration she once
held for the man who had vowed at the altar to make her 'happy.' She
had not wholly lost her love for him, but she was fast losing the best
part of it, the love which has its daily source in an inborn respect. When
respect is gone, love is not long in following after.
She sat thus for half an hour, and was at last aroused by the two girls,
Clara and Bess, coming in. They were laughing and talking together,
and