I. A. R. Wylie

“ He had folded his arms and gazed straight ahead of him into the gathering darkness.
“The money has come as a Godsend,” he said with feverish enthusiasm. “All to-day I have been wondering how the Convalescent Home could be kept open—your home, Eileen—and there are so many sick and ailing who need its help. Now the problem is solved, for I know, dear, how you will wish the money spent.”
“Geoffrey!” she said under her breath, but he did not seem to hear her.
“It is a Godsend!” he repeated fervently. “The poor creatures can still enjoy the country air, and room made for others there. ”

“ Gummidge opened her eyes wide.
“That I will,” she said highly flattered. “That there slattern down-stairs ain't no good. I knows.” The vicar sprang up. His eyes flashed with the energy and eagerness of the “smart young man,” whom he thought had died out of him years ago.
“We'll clear out all this hideous stuff,” he said with a wave in the direction of the plush chairs. “We'll have it all re-papered—a pretty paper with roses. She loves roses. Everything must be fresh and clean. New carpets, new chairs, flowers everywhere. Come this afternoon and we'll begin turning out.” ”

“ Perhaps the words, “Cast your bread upon the waters,” occurred to her in that moment of intense gratitude to the Power which had led her to this rough, simple woman. She got up, and the tears stood burning in her eyes. Mrs. Gummidge looked up at her, and a shrewd smile twisted the lined face.
“It may be pert, Mrs. Vicar,” she said, “but I'm an hold woman, and I says to you—go 'ome. You and your 'usband looks as though you wanted one another.” Eileen laughed brokenly. ”

“ They deserve their misery, for the most part. They are all cheats and humbugs, and so are we for pretending to love them. I had to kiss that Lizzie and call her a pretty child. Is it Christian to tell lies to please one's neighbor?”
“Hush, Eileen!” he interrupted quietly. “We must try and love them, that's all. And, if they are cheats and humbugs, we must remember that their lot is a very hard one. Our business is to give them what they want, both for body and soul.” ”

“ Somebody was coming home to somebody—and, being a conscientious clergyman, he fought hard against the pang of envy which shot through him. No one was coming home to him. So he went his way and visited his sick parishioners and listened to their woes with the old sympathetic smile. They were too absorbed in themselves to notice how pale and tired he looked. ”

“ He had lived under a hard strain, and the revulsion was more than he could bear.
“You have made things so beautiful, Geoffrey,” she went on, “so beautiful! But I would have been contented if nothing had been changed. You see—I wasn't bound to that other world, after all. ”

“ Captain Arnold obeyed, though unwillingly.
“I don't see any one,” he said as the boat bumped against the ground, “except an ugly old washerwoman and an ugly child in need of washing. I don't suppose those are friends—”
But Eileen had already sprung ashore and was running toward the despised pair with a delighted cry of “Mrs. Gummidge—Lizzie!” Mrs. Gummidge, who had just rescued the too venturesome Lizzie from a watery grave, gave such a start of surprise that she nearly fell in herself.
“Lawks! If it ain't Mrs. Vicar 'erself!” ”

“ Gummidge flung up her hands because no words of hers could convey the impression she intended.
“Every day 'e comes with 'is arms full of 'em and fills the vases. 'E ain't no good with flowers, but 'e does 'is best. 'She loves flowers, Mrs. Gummidge,' 'e says, 'and she may come 'ome to-day.' But 'e loses 'ope, paw feller. I was that sorry to leave 'im, but 'e sent me and Lizzie down 'ere. He said it was the place you 'ad built, Mrs. Vicar, an' 'ow grateful we was to be to you for making such a noble sacrifice.”
Eileen looked back at the little house. ”

“ Vicar drew out her purse.
“There, Mrs. Gummidge,” she said in her tired voice, “I hope this will help you with your rent.” Mrs. Gummidge got up, made a curtsy, and took the coin into her grimy palm.
“Mrs. Vicar, yer proves me an hupholder of the truth, for I says to Mrs. Jones—'I ain't the woman to go round a beggin' and a whimperin' over me 'ardships, but Mrs. Vicar's a lidy. She knows our wants afore we says a word. It's 'er hinstinkt. There, Lizzie, kiss the kind lidy!”
Lizzie put up her pale and pepperminty face, and Mrs. Vicar bent down and performed the task required of her. ”

“ Eileen started.
“No, no,” she said impulsively. “Nothing is settled. It can't be. Six months is a long time. I must consult my husband.” Arnold stopped rowing and laughed.
“After your own showing, Mrs. Calhoun, your husband is too busy to bother about your movements,” he said. “He will be only too glad to get you settled.” She made no answer, oppressed with the bitter truth of his words. Geoffrey did not care ”

“ The vicar asked himself, impatiently, how he had ever come to let his parishioners get so familiar, but he found nothing to say, and Mrs. Gummidge went on placidly:
“Wot I says when I sees wot a 'iggledy-piggledy you lives in, sir, is that you were quite right to let 'er 'ave 'er 'oliday. You halways sees that us paw folk 'ave our turn in the fresh air, so you let your missus 'ave 'er turn, too. Quite right. Charity begins at 'ome. That's wot I says.”
The Rev. Geoffrey turned scarlet. “The paw lidy was that pale and peeky,” Mrs. Gummidge went on. ”

“ Mr. Vicar, 'e sends for me and 'e says, 'Mrs. Gummidge, my wife may come back soon, and I wants things made fine for 'er—d'yer understand?—fit for 'er. None of this hold 'eathenish gear. You're a clever woman, Mrs. Gummidge, and I wants you to 'elp me make it hall prutty.' Well, I was doddering with them roomatics, but 'e's a kindly gentleman, so I 'elped 'im. We chose the d'intiest paipers you hever saw—hall roses—and wot with our two 'eads together we've made the place fit for a doochess! And the flowers!” Mrs. ”