“Here,” she said, with a look of intense benevolence, holding out the yarn stockings, which, by the way, were not mates, “take these, and, in gratitude to the Society, make a good use of them. Don’t use our benevolence as an excuse for waste and idleness; but remember that an obligation like this, received unworthily, can never prove a permanent blessing. Take them, good woman, and while you receive our bounty with a just appreciation of its value, we will remember you in our prayers.” It was beautiful to see the tears spring up, cold and heavy, like melting hail-stones, into those lustreless eyes, as the hackneyed philanthropist, overwhelmed with the magnitude of her own virtues, held out the huge, moth-eaten stockings to the astonished Irish woman. “Don’t hold back; you may accept the charity of our Society without fear; beneficence is its most heavenly attribute. You see before you a proof that where the object is worthy, we are always ready to be liberal.” Mary Margaret took the stockings, tucked one under her arm, while she thrust her hand into the other, which came out at an opening in the heel, doubled-up like a sledgehammer. Catharine, amid all her anxiety, could not prevent the smile, that quivered on her lips, from breaking into a low laugh. The Lady-Bountiful gave her a look of solemn indignation, which Mary Margaret was quick to observe. “She’s overjoyed at my good luck, yer ladyship,” said the kind woman, withdrawing her hand into the foot of the stocking; “ye don’t know what a grateful crathur she is, always smiling like that when good comes to a friend. Now I dare say she was thinkin’ that a ball of yarn, and a darning-needle, would make these the most iligant pair of stockings that an honest man can put on his feet; and she knows, too, that I’m the woman that can darn as well as the queen herself. Now, marm, that you’ve overcome me with your goodness intirely, just give her a turn of your ladyship’s benevolence.” “She looks sickly. Besides, I’m afraid she will prove one of the stiff-necked and rebellious class of persons whose ingratitude has pierced the Society so often. But I will ask her a few questions. Will the individual tell me where she was born?” “Is it important that you should know?” questioned Catharine, in a suppressed voice. “Certainly; justice may be blind, but charity never is!” “I have no reason for concealment; but it seems an unnecessary question. I do not ask for money, or charity of any kind. I supposed that a society, established for benevolent purposes, would gladly help an honorable girl to obtain some means of earning her own livelihood. It is not charity that I ask, but help; such as one woman may give to another, quietly and with a feeling of sisterhood. This is what I expected.” “Then you refuse to answer my questions. How am I to know whether you are worthy or not?”