Trials and Confessions of a Housekeeper Part 31

"'You'll have to wait until you bring home my clothes next week, Mrs. Blake.' I havn'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 coa.r.s.e, 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 enquired.

"'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, I 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 than a mere pleasant acquaintance. (And here Mr. Smith glanced, with a tender smile, towards me.) My heart had, in fact been warming towards her for some time; and I was particularly anxious to find favor in her eyes. On this evening she was lovelier and more attractive than ever.

"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 answered. '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 labor. 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 for her feeble sufferer at home.'

"'Oh, what a shame!' fell from the lips of her in whom my heart felt more than a pa.s.sing 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, that the toiling seamstress or washerwoman can gain by her wearying labor. That, at least, should be promptly paid. To withhold it an hour is to do, in many cases, a great wrong.'

"For some minutes after this was said, there ensued a dead silence.

I felt that the thoughts of all were turned upon me as the one who had withheld from poor Mrs. Blake the trifling sum due her for washing. What my feelings were, it is impossible for me to describe; and difficult for any one, never himself placed in so unpleasant a position, to imagine.

"My relief was great when the conversation flowed on again, and in another channel; for I then perceived that suspicion did not rest upon me. You may be sure that Mrs. Blake had her money before ten o'clock on the next day, and that I never again fell into the error of neglecting, for a single week, my poor washerwoman."

"Such a confession from you, Mr. Smith, of all men," said I, feeling a little uncomfortable, that he should have told this story of himself.

"We are none of us perfect," he answered, "He is best, who, conscious of natural defects and evils, strives against, and overcomes them."

CHAPTER XXVIII.

MY BORROWING NEIGHBOR.

"I THINK, my dear," said I to my husband one day, "that we shall have to move from here."

"Why so?" asked Mr. Smith, in surprise. "It is a very comfortable house. I am certain we will not get another as desirable at the same rent."

"I don't know that we will. But--"

Just as I said this, my cook opened the door of the room where we were sitting and said--

"Mrs. Jordon, ma'am, wants to borrow half a pound of b.u.t.ter. She says, they are entirely out, and their b.u.t.ter-man won't come before to-morrow."

"Very well, Bridget, let her have it."

The cook retired.

"Why do you wish to move, Jane?" asked my husband, as the girl closed the door.

"Cook's visit was quite apropos," I replied. "It is on account of the 'half pound of b.u.t.ter,' 'cup of sugar,' and 'pan of flour'

nuisance."

"I don't exactly comprehend you, Jane," said my husband.

"It is to get rid of a borrowing neighbor. The fact is, Mrs. Jordon is almost too much for me. I like to be accommodating; it gives me pleasure to oblige my neighbors; I am ready to give any reasonable obedience to the Scripture injunction--_from him that would borrow of thee, turn thou not away_; but Mrs. Jordon goes beyond all reason."

"Still, if she is punctual in returning what she gets, I don't know that you ought to let it annoy you a great deal."

"There lies the gist of the matter, my dear," I replied. "If there were no 'if,' such as you suggest, in the case, I would not think a great deal about it. But, the fact is, there is no telling the cups of sugar, pans of flour, pounds of b.u.t.ter, and little matters of salt, pepper, vinegar, mustard, ginger, spices, eggs, lard, meal, and the dear knows what all, that go out monthly, but never come back again. I verily believe we suffer through Mrs. Jordon's habit of borrowing not less than fifty or sixty dollars a year. Little things like these count up."

"So bad as that, is it?" said my husband.

"Indeed it is; and when she returns anything, it is almost always of an inferior quality, and frequently thrown away on that account."

While we were talking, the tea bell rang, and we retired to the dining-room.

"What's the matter with this tea?" asked Mr. Smith, pushing the cup I had handed him aside, after leaving sipped of its contents. "I never tasted such stuff. It's like herb tea."

"It must be something in the water," replied I. "The tea is the same we have been using all along."

I poured some into a cup and tasted it.

"Pah!" I said, with disgust, and rang the bell. The cook entered in a few moments.

"Bridget, what's the matter with your tea? It isn't fit to drink. Is it the same we have been using?"

"No, ma'am," replied Bridget. "It is some Mrs. Jordon sent home. I reminded Nancy, when she was here for b.u.t.ter, that they owed us some tea, borrowed day before yesterday, and she came right back with it, saying that Mrs. Jordon was sorry it had slipped her mind. I thought I would draw it by itself, and not mix it with the tea in our canister."