<SPAN name="chap27"></SPAN>
<h3> CHAPTER XXVII. </h3>
<h3> MY WASHERWOMAN. </h3>
<p>WE were sitting at tea one evening—Mr. Smith, my sister and her
husband, Mr. John Jones, and myself. In the midst of a pleasant
conversation, Bridget looked into the dining-room.</p>
<p>"What is wanted?" said I.</p>
<p>"Mary Green is down stairs."</p>
<p>"Oh! the washerwoman."</p>
<p>"Yes ma'am."</p>
<p>"Well, what does she want?"</p>
<p>I knew what she wanted well enough. She had come for two dollars
that I owed her. I felt annoyed. "Why?" the reader asks.
"Obligations of this kind should always be met promptly and
cheerfully."</p>
<p>True; and I am of those who never grudge the humble poor the reward
of their labor. But, it so happened that I had received a pretty
liberal supply of money from my husband on this very day, all of
which I had spent in shopping. Some of my purchases could not be
classed exactly under the head, "Articles of Domestic Economy," and
I was, already, in rather a repentant mood—the warmth of admiration
at the sight of sundry ornamental trifles having subsided almost as
soon as I found myself their owner. To my question, Bridget very
promptly answered,</p>
<p>"She's come for her money."</p>
<p>When a woman feels annoyed, she is rarely able to repress its
exhibition. Men are cooler, and have a quicker self control. They
make better hypocrites.</p>
<p>"She's very prompt," I remarked, a little fretfully, as I took out
my porte-monnaie. Now I did not possess twenty cents, and I knew it;
still, I fingered among its compartments as if in search of the
little gold dollars that were not there.</p>
<p>"Hav'nt you the change?" enquired Mr. Smith, at the same time
drawing forth his purse, through the meshes of which the gold and
silver coin glittered in the gas light.</p>
<p>"No dear," I replied, feeling instant relief.</p>
<p>"Help yourself;" said he, as he tossed the purse to my side of the
table. I was not long in accepting the invitation you may be sure.</p>
<p>"Don't think," said I, after Bridget had retired, "that I am one of
those who grudge the toiling poor the meagre wages they earn. I
presume I looked, as I spoke, a little annoyed. The fact is, to tell
the honest truth, I have not a dollar in my porte-monnaie; this with
the not very pleasant consciousness of having spent several dollars
to-day rather foolishly, fretted me when the just demand of the
washerwoman came."</p>
<p>"I will exonerate my wife from any suspicion of grinding the faces
of the poor." Mr. Smith spoke promptly and with some earnestness of
manner. After a slight pause, he continued,</p>
<p>"Some people have a singular reluctance to part with money. If
waited on for a bill, they say, almost involuntarily, 'Call
to-morrow,' even though their pockets are far from being empty.</p>
<p>"I once fell into this bad habit myself; but, a little incident,
which I will relate, cured me. Not many years after I had attained
my majority, a poor widow named Blake did my washing and ironing.
She was the mother of two or three little children, whose sole
dependance for food and raiment was on the labor of her hands.</p>
<p>"Punctually, every Thursday morning, Mrs. Blake appeared with my
clothes, 'white as the driven snow;' but, not always, as punctually,
did I pay the pittance she had earned by hard labor.</p>
<p>"'Mrs. Blake is down stairs,' said a servant tapping at my room
door, one morning, while I was in the act of dressing myself.</p>
<p>"'Oh, very well,' I replied. 'Tell her to leave my clothes. I will
get them when I come down.'</p>
<p>"The thought of paying the seventy-five cents, her due, crossed my
mind. But, I said to myself, 'It's but a small matter, and will do
as well when she comes again.'</p>
<p>"There was in this a certain reluctance to part with money. My funds
were low, and I might need what change I had during the day. And so
it proved! As I went to the office in which I was engaged, some
small article of ornament caught my eye in a shop window.</p>
<p>"'Beautiful!' said I, as I stood looking at it. Admiration quickly
changed into the desire for possession; and so I stepped in to ask
the price. It was just two dollars.</p>
<p>"'Cheap enough,' thought I. And this very cheapness was a further
temptation.</p>
<p>"So I turned out the contents of my pockets, counted them over, and
found the amount to be two dollars and a quarter.</p>
<p>"'I guess I'll take it,' said I, laying the money on the
shopkeeper's counter.</p>
<p>"'Better have paid Mrs. Blake.' This thought crossed my mind, an
hour afterwards, by which time, the little ornament had lost its
power of pleasing. 'So much would at least have been saved.'</p>
<p>"I was leaving the table, after tea, on the evening that followed,
when the waiter said to me—</p>
<p>"'Mrs. Blake is at the door, and wishes to see you.'</p>
<p>"I felt worried at hearing this; for there was no change in my
pockets, and the poor washerwoman, had, of course, come for her
money.</p>
<p>"'She's in a great hurry,' I muttered to myself as I descended to
the door.</p>
<p>"'You'll have to wait until you bring home my clothes next week,
Mrs. Blake.' I havn't any change this evening.'</p>
<p>"The expression of the poor woman's face, as she turned slowly away,
without speaking, rather softened my feelings.</p>
<p>"'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.'</p>
<p>"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.</p>
<p>"'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.'</p>
<p>"I felt, of coarse, rather ill at ease. A little while afterwards, I
met the lady with whom I was boarding.</p>
<p>"'Do you know anything about this Mrs. Blake, who washes for me?' I
enquired.</p>
<p>"'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.'</p>
<p>"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.</p>
<p>"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.</p>
<p>"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—</p>
<p>"'Oh, dear! This is a strange world!'</p>
<p>"'What new feature have you discovered now, mother?' asked one of
her daughters, smiling.</p>
<p>"'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.'</p>
<p>"'What about, mother?' All the young ladies at once manifested
unusual interest.</p>
<p>"Tell-tale blushes came instantly to my countenance, upon which the
eyes of the mother turned themselves, as I felt, with a severe
scrutiny.</p>
<p>"'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.'</p>
<p>"'Oh, what a shame!' fell from the lips of her in whom my heart felt
more than a passing interest; and she looked at me earnestly as she
spoke.</p>
<p>"'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.'</p>
<p>"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.</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>"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.</p>
<p>"We are none of us perfect," he answered, "He is best, who,
conscious of natural defects and evils, strives against, and
overcomes them."</p>
<br/><br/><br/>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />
1 of 2
2 of 2
Previous
Next
Update Required
To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.