Chapter 27

MY WASHERWOMAN.

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.

"What is wanted?" said I.

"Mary Green is down stairs."

"Oh! the washerwoman."

"Yes ma'am."

"Well, what does she want?"

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."

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,

"She's come for her money."

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.

"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.

"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.

"No dear," I replied, feeling instant relief.

"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.

"Dont 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."

"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,

"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.

"I once fell