Southern States -- History -- 1865-1877 -- Fiction; Young men -- Fiction
"It is not so much as that; it is only a little of your time and, maybe,
a little of your company. I have just heard of a poor young woman here
who seems to be in quite a desperate way. She has been abandoned by her
husband, and is now quite ill. The person who told me, one of those good
women who are always seeking out such cases, tells me that she has
rarely seen a more pitiable case. The poor thing is absolutely
destitute. Mrs. King tells me she has seen better days."
For some reason, perhaps, that the circumstances called up not wholly
pleasant associations, Mr. Rimmon's face fell a little at the picture
drawn. He did not respond with the alacrity Mrs. Lancaster had expected.
"Of course, I will do it, if you wish it--or I could have some of our
workers look up the case, and, if the facts warrant it, could apply some
of our alms to its relief. I should think, however, the woman is rather
a fit subject for a hospital. Why hasn't she been sent to a hospital,
I wonder?"
"I don't know. No, that is not exactly what I meant," declared Mrs.
Lancaster. "I thought I would go myself and that, as Dr. Templeton is
ill, perhaps you would go with me. She seems to be in great distress of
mind, and possibly you might be able to comfort her. I have never
forgotten what an unspeakable comfort your uncle was when we were in
trouble years ago."
"Oh, of course, I will go with you," said the divine. "There is no
place, dear lady, where I would not go in such company," he added, his
head as much on one side as his stout neck would allow, and his eyes as
languishing as he dared make them.
Mrs. Lancaster, however, did not appear to notice this. Her face did not
change.
"Very well, then: we will go to-morrow. I will come around and pick you
up. I will get the address."
So the following morning Mrs. Lancaster's carriage stopped in front of
the comfortable house which adjoined Mr. Rimmon's church, and after a
little while that gentleman came down the steps. He was not in a happy
frame of mind, for stocks had fallen heavily the day before, and he had
just received a note from Ferdy Wickersham. However, as he settled his
plump person beside the lady, the Rev. William H. Rimmon was as
well-satisfied-looking as any man on earth could be. Who can blame him
if he thought how sweet it would be if he could drive thus always!
The carriage presently stopped at the entrance of a narrow street that
ran down toward the river. The coachman appeared unwilling to drive down
so wretched an alley, and waited for further instructions. After a few
words the clergyman and Mrs. Lancaster got out.
"You wait here, James; we will walk." They made their way down the
street, through a multitude of curious children with one common
attribute, dirt, examining the numbers on either side, and commiserating
the poor creatures who had to live in such squalor.
Presently Mrs. Lancaster stopped.
"This is the number."
It was an old house between two other old houses.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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