I think
it is wicked neglect, criminal neglect in us to ignore this fact."
"It is, it is," said Mrs. Montague, in a despairing voice. "I can't help
feeling it. Tell me something I can do to help some one."
Mrs. Morris sank back in her chair, her face very sad, and yet with
something like pleasure in her eyes as she looked at her caller. "Your
washerwoman," she said, "has a drunken husband and a cripple boy. I have
often seen her standing over her tub, washing your delicate muslins and
laces, and dropping tears into the water."
"I will never send her anything more--she shall not be troubled," said
Mrs. Montague, hastily.
Mrs. Morris could not help smiling. "I have not made myself clear. It is
not the washing that troubles her; it is her husband who beats her, and
her boy who worries her. If you and I take our work from her, she will
have that much less money to depend upon, and will suffer in
consequence.
"She is a hard-working and capable woman, and makes a fair living. I
would not advise you to give her money, for her husband would find it
out, and take it from her. It is sympathy that she wants.
Pages:
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55