Blade-O'-Grass. Golden Grain. and Bread and Cheese and Kisses.Farjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
General
Blade-O'-Grass. Golden Grain. and Bread and Cheese and Kisses.
Farjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
Christmas stories; Fiction
'That's like me again,' cried the impetuous old bachelor remorsefully;
'throwing in the teeth of my best friends an accusation of
inhumanity--yes, inhumanity--positive inhumanity. Forgive me--I am
truly sorry. But that indiscriminate-charity question cropped up again
to-day, and that, as well as this affair, has set my nerves in a
jingle. A gentleman called upon me this morning, and asked me for a
subscription towards the funds of an institution--a worthy
institution, as I believe. I hadn't much to spare--I am so
selfishly extravagant that my purse is always low--and I gave him
half-a-sovereign. He took it, and looked at it and at me
reproachfully. "I was given to understand," he said in the meekest of
voices, so meek, indeed, that I could hot possibly take offence--"I
was given to understand that from Mr. Merrywhistle, and in aid of
_such_ an institution as ours, I should have received a much larger
contribution."'
'That savoured of impertinence,' observed Mr. Silver.
'I daresay, Silver, I daresay. Another man might have thought
so; but I couldn't possibly be angry with him, his manner was so
humble--reproachfully humble. I explained to him that at present I
couldn't afford more, and that, somehow or other, my money melted away
most surprisingly. "I hope, sir," he then said, "that what I was told
of you is not true, and that you are not in the habit of giving away
money indiscriminately." I could not deny it--no, indeed, I could not
deny it--and I commenced to say, hesitatingly (feeling very guilty),
that now and then---- But he interrupted me with, "Now and then,
sir!--now and then! You will pardon my saying so, Mr. Merrywhistle,
but it may not have struck you before that those persons who give away
money indiscriminately are making criminals for us--are filling our
prisons--are blowing a cold blast on manly self-endeavour--are
crippling industry--are paying premiums to idleness, which is the
offspring of the----hem!" And continued in this strain for more than
five minutes. When he went away, my hair stood on end, and I felt as
if sentence ought to be pronounced upon me at once. And here, this
very afternoon, am I caught again by a pitiful face--you should
have seen it! I thought the poor boy would have died as I looked at
him--and I give away a shilling, indiscriminately. Then comes this
strange old fellow staring at me--sneering at me, shrugging
his shoulders at me, and walking away with the unmistakable
declaration--though he didn't declare it in words--that I wasn't fit
to be trusted alone. As perhaps I'm not,--as perhaps I'm not!' And Mr.
Merrywhistle blew his nose violently.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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