"I gave it at the first cottage to the left of the gate, beyond
Harper's wretched little den," replied Emmie. She read something very
unlike approbation in the eyes of her parent, and shrank from their
questioning gaze.
"What! you gave it at the cottage of Blunt, the man who earns higher
wages than almost any one else in the place!" cried Mr. Trevor, slightly
raising his voice.
"The cottage did not look _very_ comfortable," said Emmie in an
apologetic tone. She felt that the excuse was scarcely sincere, for the
comfort or discomfort of the abode had had little to do with her giving
the money.
"Of course the cottage is not comfortable, for the man Blunt is
notoriously given to drinking," said Mr. Trevor, "and doubtless your
half-crown is already turned into gin. You must really exert your common
sense in visiting my tenants, my dear child," he continued in a tone of
vexation, "or you will do incalculable mischief where you intend to do
good."
It was so strange a thing to Emmie to receive anything like reproof from
her tender indulgent parent, that her eyes glistened with tears of
distress and mortification. Mr. Trevor could not bear to give her pain,
and instantly softened his tone to that of kindness.
"You had the best intentions, my darling, and we shall all in time
understand our new duties better. But you must be a little more careful
in future where you visit, and how you give alms. I wish that instead of
Blunt's cottage you had taken the one to the right of the gate. A poor
respectable widow lives there; if I recollect rightly, her name is
Brant. I have seen her several times at her cottage-door, looking tidy,
but so poor and so ill that she has been rather upon my mind. It is not
in my way to visit sick women, but I should like you to call with Susan,
and ascertain whether the poor creature be really in want."
"Yes, papa, I will go," said Emmie humbly; "I will this afternoon visit
the poor respectable widow, and try to keep my half-crowns in future for
those who need and deserve them."
CHAPTER XVI.
TRY AGAIN.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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