Two weeks passed. Peggy or John Edward or Elmore came duly on Wednesdays
and Saturdays for the grocery orders and reported that the family was
getting on "elegant" or "splendid." One Friday afternoon, a neighbor of
the little brown house flounced into the office.
"It's my dooty to come to you, lady," said Mrs. Flannagan, "and I does
my dooty when it's hard on other folks. You wouldn't give me a bit of
groceries last week, but they tell me you rain down grocery orders on
Mrs. Callahan, and she spendin' money like she was President Bill Taft
or Johnny Rockefeller."
"What do you mean, Mrs. Flannagan? Please explain," said the
long-suffering Charity lady.
"I mean this," said Mrs. Flannagan. "With my own two eyes I seen 'em
yestiddy afternoon--Mrs. Callahan and them four biggest children walkin'
down the street like a rainbow in silk and satin and lace, goin' past my
house 'thout lookin' at me any more'n I was one of them cobblestones.
'Good-day,' I says, and Mrs. Callahan says, says she, 'Good-day. It's
Mrs. Flannagan, ain't it?'--like she hain't been in and out of my house
these two years! 'Whar's the kittle-bilin' of you goin' to-day?' I
asked, and she tosses her head and says, says she, 'Oh, it don't agree
with the children's health to stay at home so clost. I'm takin' 'em on a
'scursion down the river to see the shows.' And they ain't come back
till dark, for I sat at my front window to see. There's where your
Charity money goes, ma'am."
Miss Margery sighed as her informer flaunted away. She must look into
the matter before giving any more grocery orders, and if Mrs. Callahan
was really wasting money, as Mrs. Flannagan declared, the Charities' aid
must be withdrawn.
The next morning, Peggy entered the office, her usually smiling face
very sober. Before Miss Margery had time to mention excursions and
grocery orders, Peggy made a request.
"If you please'm, lady," she said, "mommer says won't you give us a help
with the rent? It's due to-day and we're three dollars short."
"Didn't officer McFlaerty bring the money from your father on Monday?"
"Yessum, lady," confessed Peggy.
"Your mother told me she would put that aside for the rent--every cent
of it--and that it would leave her lacking only one dollar of the rent
money. Now you say she is three dollars short. Peggy, I am afraid your
family has been wasting money." The Charity lady spoke severely, mindful
of Mrs. Flannagan's tale. Peggy did not answer. She looked embarrassed,
and twisted her toe under a loose strip of matting. Miss Margery
continued, after a pause, "Mrs. Flannagan told me that you went on an
excursion Thursday."
Peggy brightened and dimpled. "Yessum, lady. We told her we was a-goin'.
It made her so mad. I wisht you could 'a' seen her flirt in and slam her
door." Peggy's merry laugh pealed forth. "And we told her we was a-goin'
to the shows, too."
"Peggy! do you think I ought to help you with the rent when you are
wasting money on excursions and shows?" Miss Margery frowned on Peggy's
mirth.
"Oh! why, ma'am!" Peggy seemed amazed that it was necessary to explain.
"We didn't go to no shows or no 'scursions. We weren't thinkin' 'bout
goin'. That was a lie. It was just to make Mrs. Flannagan mad. She put
on so many airs 'bout goin' street-car-ridin' last Sunday."
"You really didn't go?" Miss Margery asked. "But Mrs. Flannagan says
you passed her house--five of you--dressed for the excursion."
"Yessum, lady," Peggy agreed, dimpling. "I wisht you could 'a' seen us.
It cert'ny is nice livin' when you can wear fussy-fixy velvet and silk
clothes and lacey waists. John Edward and Elmore, bein' boys, couldn't
get no good of them, so we give John Edward the little lace-flounced
umberill to carry and Elmore a painted open-and-shut fan.--Them's the
things the lady give us where mommer sews for," she explained, in answer
to Miss Margery's bewildered look. "We went to see her like she asked
us. 'Twas too far for the baby and Bud and Lois to walk, so we left them
with Mrs. Mooney--she's the nice colored lady next door. We wisht they
could 'a' gone. Mrs. Peckinbaugh gave us sandwiches and lemonade and
little icin' cakes and street-car tickets to ride home on. I never did
have such a good time. Oh," Peggy laughed merrily, "and when we came
back by Mrs. Flannagan's, I said out loud 'twas most too cool on the
boat up the river and John Edward he asked if the monkeys wa'n't cute!"
"Peggy, Peggy, my child!" said Miss Margery. "Don't you know it's sinful
to tell lies?"
"Yessum--lies that hurt folks. Them's little white lies. They don't do
no harm."
"There aren't any white lies, Peggy. They are all black. It is wrong, it
is sinful, to tell a falsehood. Remember that, my child," Miss Margery
urged. "Always speak the truth."
"Yessum, lady." Peggy's brow was unclouded and her clear blue eyes
looked straight into the clear blue eyes of the Charity lady. "Can I
tell mommer you'll come? or can't you give me the money? She's awful
worried."
"I do not understand," said Miss Margery. "I know she had that money for
the rent."
"Did she, ma'am?" Peggy looked surprised, then suggested, "I 'spect she
lost it. She keeps the rent money in a china mug on the mantel-piece,
and this might 'a' been paper money and blowed in the fire and got burnt
up."
Miss Margery looked unconvinced. "Tell your mother I'll come there this
afternoon," she said. Peggy, with an engaging smile, tripped away.
Anne was delighted to learn that another visit was to be paid to the
Callahans. She ran home to get Honey-Sweet.
"I told them about her and they want to see her," she said. "I think
she's taller than the baby. Oh! I hope that cunning baby has another
tooth."
Miss Margery paused a moment at the door of the Callahans' neighbor, the
'nice colored lady.' "Do you happen to know," she inquired, "where Mrs.
Callahan was last Thursday afternoon?"
"She was visitin', lady," was the ready answer. "She took the biggest
children to see a lady she sews for that's give them a lot of things. I
had them three youngest children under my feet all afternoon. Not but
that I was glad to mind them for her to go visitin', for she's a
splendid lady and they're real lovely children. She's to home now. The
sewin'-machine's been rattlin' since daylight."
"I cert'ny am glad to see you at last, lady," said Mrs. Callahan, with
rather an offended air, when Peggy and John Edward and Elmore and Susie
ushered in the visitors. "I been lookin' for you to bring me that
rent-money. I told the agent's young man he should have it early this
afternoon."
"I did not promise to let you have any money, Mrs. Callahan." Miss
Margery's tone was crisp and firm. "On Monday you had all your
rent-money except one dollar. You said you expected to get that this
week for sewing."
"I ain't got no sewin' money," said Mrs. Callahan. "The lady she
couldn't make the change and she told me to come back Monday. That's why
I had to send and ask you to lend me the loan of three dollars."
"But it was one dollar you needed for the rent, Mrs. Callahan," said
Miss Margery, resolved to get to the bottom of the matter.
"Well, I did have two dollars but I had to spend it," said Mrs.
Callahan. "I was thinkin' I could get it somehow. And I knew you could
let me have it. Ain't that what the Charity's for?"
That was what many of the 'poor things' thought, Miss Margery knew to
her regret,--that the Charity was merely a reservoir for the wasteful
and the thriftless to draw from at will. Could it ever be, she wondered,
what it ought to be,--a crutch to be cast aside with regained health, a
hand of brotherhood to lift the fallen and teach them to stand alone, to
steady the weak and make them strong? How hard it was to give help, and
at the same time to teach the poor to be self-helpful! Miss Margery
sighed, but she knew it was useless to argue the matter, so she only
answered reprovingly, "I fear you have wasted money, Mrs. Callahan. A
neighbor told me you had been off with the children on an excursion."
When Mrs. Callahan dimpled and chuckled as she did now, she looked like
Peggy's older sister. "Peg told me Mrs. Flannagan went to you with that
tale. I cert'ny did fool her. Why, Miss Margery, I ain't been on no more
'scursions than this old machine settin' here. When I took Mrs.
Peckinbaugh's sewin' home, I carried the children with me, like she told
me, for her to see how I'd fixed the clothes she give me. She give us a
reception like the president's,--sandwiches and lemonade and iced cakes
and street-car fare back home. I laugh every time I think how I fooled
Mrs. Flannagan. I told her that bundle of sewin' was our lunch and
wraps. And she fool enough to believe me!" Mrs. Callahan laughed till
tears stood in her eyes.
"Mrs. Callahan, aren't you ashamed to tell falsehoods--and before your
little children, too? How can you expect them to believe you? And how
can you expect them to tell the truth when you set them such an
example?"
"Why, I wouldn't tell a lie to harm anybody for the world," said Mrs.
Callahan. "But there wouldn't be no fun in livin' if you didn't tell
white lies."
Miss Margery saw that it was useless to protest. "I think I ought not to
give you any money, Mrs. Callahan," she said, rising to go. "You had it
in your hand and you spent it. If we give in such cases as this, we will
not have funds to meet real need."
"If you must know," said Mrs. Callahan, "I lent them two dollars to the
colored lady next door. Her rent was due on Wednesday and she'll get the
money for her wash to-night. I told Peggy not to tell you, for you'd
told me so partic'lar not to spend a cent of that money--but if you must
know, you must. She was needin' it worse than me."
"Is this the truth?" asked Miss Margery.
"It's the gospel truth, ma'am," declared Mrs. Callahan. "You ask Mrs.
Mooney, ma'am."
As the two women promised faithfully to repay it on Monday, Miss Margery
lent the lacking rent-money and then rose to go.
Meanwhile, Anne and Honey-Sweet were the centre of an admiring group.
Anne allowed the little Callahans one by one to touch Honey-Sweet and
the older ones were even permitted to hold her for a minute.
As Honey-Sweet made the rounds of the group, she was followed admiringly
by the beadlike, black eyes of Lois, the second from the baby. She put
out her chubby hand and solemnly touched the doll's dress with her
fingertip, saying over and over, "Pretty sweet Honey! pretty sweet
Honey!" When Miss Margery said they must go, Lois caught Anne's frock in
her little fat hands and lisped, "Don't go away, sweet Honey. Stay here
two, five minutes."
Miss Margery smiled and patted the tangled curls. "It is getting late,
dearie, and we must hurry home," she said.
But Lois followed them down the path, crying, "Wait, lady, wait." She
smiled up into Anne's face. "I dess want kiss sweet Honey one time," she
said. "I ain't done kiss her yet." Then she pressed her lips on the
lace-ruffled flounces and toddled back to the house.