CONTENTS.

TOO CLOSE FISTED.

CHAPTER I. LOOKS AND WAYS.

CHAPTER II. MISTAKEN KINDNESS.

CHAPTER III. NEW ARRIVALS AT "THE NEST."

CHAPTER IV. THE KING'S STAMP.

WHAT CAME OF A TALK.

CHAPTER I. THE BEST KIND OF HELP.

CHAPTER II. LEARNING WISE LESSONS.

IT IS MOTHER'S WAY.

NOTHING BEATS TRYING BUT DOING.

CHAPTER I.

LOOKS AND WAYS.

"MR. BURTON and Mr. James are not a bit like brothers. They are as different as dark and light. Folks do say that you never find two alike in a family, however many there may be."

Mr. Duff, the baker, was very fond of talking about his neighbours, and he liked his listeners to say they agreed with him. He had a great opinion of himself, and could hardly understand that his customer, kind-hearted Mrs. Brown, could possibly have any decided ideas of her own which differed from those he thought fit to express.

If she had! Well, Mr. Duff would have said she was to be pitied; for, like most individuals who are constantly sitting in judgment on their neighbours, he felt quite certain that he was right, and whoever thought otherwise was in the wrong.

Mrs. Brown's reply was irritating. "I always think Mr. Burton and Mr. James favour one another in looks."

"Tut, tut! Looks are not of much account. People's ways are more than faces. It was their ways I was thinking of, Mrs. Brown."

"But you mentioned looks too, and it was looks I spoke about. As to ways, they are very unlike one another."

"Ay, you have it right this time. Mr. Burton is the elder brother with large means. Mr. James is the younger with far less means, though he must have a tidy income too. See how Mr. Burton uses his. Lives in such a quiet way, keeps very little company, and what he has of a sort most gentlemen wouldn't mind about. He cannot spend a quarter of his income. I say it isn't right. A man that has money ought to spend it for the good of his neighbours and to encourage business. That's what I say. His money is a talent, and it was never given him to hide away and do no good with."

"Perhaps he may have a reason for living quietly. All gentlemen do not care for great parties and a deal of show," replied Mrs. Brown. "Very likely he gives—"

Mr. Duff had not patience to hear the rest. With a look of pity for Mrs. Brown, and scorn at the idea of Mr. Burton's imaginary generosity, he exclaimed: "He give away his money! Not he, indeed. He's too close fisted for that; and it is his love of money that makes him hoard what it is his Christian duty to spend."

Mr. Duff brought his hand down on the counter with such a thump, that he made little Mrs. Brown start and colour, as she said, "Dear, how you startled me! I'm a little bit out of sorts, through losing my night's rest, and a trifle puts me about."

The baker apologised, and hoped there was nobody ill at Mrs. Brown's.

"It's only baby that is restless o' nights just now. She's about her teeth," she replied.

"I get so angry when I think of the good that man might do with his money, that I'm afraid I forget myself," said Mr. Duff. "Now I'll just give you a sample of those two gentlemen, and it was only yesterday I witnessed the whole affair. Mr. Burton was coming along in his steady, plodding way, never so much as giving a 'good-day' to anybody, when old Ann Willis hobbled towards him and asked him for a copper. He shook his head at the poor old body and went on his way.

"Just after, Mr. James came by, and old Ann never looked at him. I suppose she thought, if the rich brother had nothing to spare, the poorer one was certain not to have a penny handy. Would you believe it? Mr. James did not want to be asked, but he out with a sixpence and gave it to Ann, with as pleasant a look as I ever wish to see."

"And I dare say she took it straight to the public-house," replied Mrs. Brown, who seemed fated to take what Mr. Duff would have called "the shine" out of his remarks concerning the brothers Burton.

"That might be. Old Ann was certainly the worse for drink last night. But that doesn't say that Mr. James was not kind and generous in giving her the sixpence. She's dreadfully poor, you know."

"And I'm afraid she always will be," sighed little Mrs. Brown, without, however, saying hard words about the unfortunate woman's bad habit.

"Then there was Dick Pearson. He met Mr. James just opposite my door, but that was in the evening. He had been working at the Hall, and was on his way home. He touched his cap to Mr. James and got a pleasant, 'Good-evening, Dick. Done your work for to-day? Here's the value of a glass of beer for you. I'll be bound you got none at the Hall.'"

"That was how Mr. James spoke to him, and dropped the money for a pint into Dick's hand. Now, isn't he a generous, free-handed gentleman?"

Again Mrs. Brown gave no direct answer, but asked, "What did Dick say? Did he take the money?"

"He was going to say something, but Mr. James did not give him a chance. He just dropped the coppers into his hand, and, with a little nod to Dick, was off and out of sight round the corner without another word. He wanted no thanks, you see."

"Dick would not drink the money," said Mrs. Brown, in a tone of conviction. "He has more sense than to be enticed in that way. I dare say if Mr. James would have listened to him, Dick could have said that if Mr. Burton gave no beer at the Hall, he gave what was better. I know my husband was working up there, and they were not bound to give him anything but his bare wages, though it is the custom, and more's the pity, to send them a jug of beer now and again! Well, my Tom wants no allowance, because he doesn't drink, and those that like it got none from Mr. Burton. But more than once they were called into the kitchen, and a comfortable cup of hot coffee, with meat and bread, put before them, which did them good, for the weather was cold. When the job was finished Mr. Burton said to the men, 'I dare say you wonder that I have given you no allowance whilst you have been here, and I have my reason for it. There are some teetotallers among you, and those do not want beer. There are some drinking men among you, and I do not want to be the means of starting them on the wrong road.

The gift of a glass of beer or spirits is often a present that costs him who gets it the price of many more. Sometimes it costs him his work or his place, doesn't it, my men?' They said, 'Yes, sir,' and there were those among them who hung down their heads, for the words went home, seeing the thing had happened to themselves. 'Well,' said Mr. Burton, 'I reckon that drink-giving is bad for those that like it and bad for those that don't. It leads the weak ones astray, and unless it is made up to the sober workers in some other way it puts a premium on drink. Now, you men have all worked heartily and satisfied me, so I shall divide amongst you the money I might have spent in beer for the drinkers, with a little extra, to show that I am satisfied. Only let it go to the wives, if you please.' Now, I don't call that being close fisted, Mr. Duff," continued Mrs. Brown, in her quiet way, "and I dare say Dick Pearson could tell you the same sort of tale."

The baker could not withstand such evidence, but he liked Mrs. Brown's words no better for being equally true and reasonable. He felt angry at the little woman for having proved him in the wrong, but she was a good customer, and he did not wish to offend her.

"Speak well of the bridge that carries you safe over the river," said he. "You are right to speak of Mr. Burton as you have found him. But, after all, what was a little present to a lot of workmen once in a way? I was talking of his general close fistedness. There's no mistake about this. Mr. Burton has much and spends little. He doesn't live up to his means and circulate his money as he should do. He may give a few shillings amongst a lot of workpeople, but what of that? See what he has left. I can't bear those close fisted folks. Give me a pleasant, free-spoken gentleman like Mr. James, that does not want to be asked to do a kindness."

Mrs. Brown had no time to waste in talk. Her articles were now ready and packed into the large square basket, for which two of her boys were to call on the way from school. But as she gave a civil "good-day" to Mr. Duff, and stepped into the street, she saw Mr. Burton passing the shop.

The baker saw him too, and wondered if by chance the gentleman had heard his loud-toned remarks, uttered as he followed his customer to the door. He looked disconcerted, and shrank back into his shop, whilst little Mrs. Brown, having the memory of no hard judgments on her conscience, dropped a respectful courtesy, and received a pleasant greeting from the owner of the Hall. As she walked briskly homeward she thought to herself, "Mr. James may be free-handed, as Duff says, and he may give so as to make a great show with very little money; for, after all, it was only a matter of ninepence that he gave to old Ann Willis and Dick Pearson. As to the sixpence, he might as well have thrown it into the gutter as given it to the poor old creature, who would be safe to spend it so as to do herself harm. Mr. James knows what she is. Dick Pearson is a bit proud in his way, and though Duff might think it generous of Mr. James to give him money for a pint of beer, I believe Dick would have sooner he had let it alone. Mr. Burton gives in a sensible way, both to do good and

to please those he helps, and he makes no fuss about it. Duff may say what he likes, but he would never persuade me that he is one of the selfish sort, though I have only little things to go by."

Certain familiar words came into Mrs. Brown's mind as she went on her way, "When thou doest alms let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth."

Maybe neither of the brothers' little gifts could be called almsgiving; but, thought Mrs. Brown, "They show the spirit of the two gentlemen. One is for letting all the world see if he gives a copper; the other cares that his gifts shall be such as his Father which is in heaven will approve of."

Mrs. Brown was right. The one brother desired the good opinion of men, the other to act as in the sight of God.

CHAPTER II.

MISTAKEN KINDNESS.

CHRISTMAS was drawing near. Only a fortnight off. Winter had begun early, the ground was hard with frost, and a bitter north-east wind was making itself felt through every crevice. Old folk and little children shrank before it and cowered by the hearths, where, alas! in many a home both fire and food were scarce.

Strong men faced the cutting blast, and wandered many a mile in search of work, only to come back disappointed, footsore, weary in body and faint in heart. Wives met them at the threshold, and needed not to ask, "How have you fared?" They saw and read in their husbands' faces a tale of strength spent in vain and hope disappointed. And, poor things! many amongst them strove to smile a welcome, in spite of heavy hearts and sad forebodings. Such went hungry themselves in order to spread something like a meal for the tired wayfarer, whose only longing was for work, which he could not get, and the chance to win with his strong, willing hands, bread for wife and children.

"It will be a hard winter in-doors and out. God help us," were words uttered by many a tongue, and the thought was in many a heart that did not give it utterance, for fear of distressing still more those who were already sad enough at the prospect before them.

And yet, whilst there was so much that was sorrowful in many a poor home, it might have made angels rejoice to see the little acts of kindness that the inmates showed one to another. Little, if looked at apart from their surroundings. Great, when one saw what they cost to the self-devoting souls who out of their penury ministered to those who were in bitterer straits than themselves. The best morsel would be taken from the lips for a neighbour's sick child; a share of a scanty meal given, where the cupboard in some other poor home was quite empty, and kindly words and deeds were never lacking.

Only God knew what some apparently small gifts cost to those who bestowed them, but how sweet to think that Our Father does know all things, even the very thoughts of our hearts!

There were many sufferers at Halesford, the little country town where Mr. Duff dispensed his loaves and his opinions to all comers alike. There were not so many customers passing in and out as in more prosperous times, and some of those who entered the shop came empty-handed to ask for credit until better times.

Mr. Duff rarely refused this. Halesford working men were none of your runagates, here to-day and gone to-morrow, but mostly steady-going folk, who spent their lives within a narrow circle and knew little of the world beyond. Duff was a man of some capital, and not unkindly in the main. He was rather proud of being able to give credit, and would say, "I can afford to wait for my money, so long as I know who I am trusting."

Many of the customers had to wait for their loaves too, whilst Duff held forth on his favourite subjects. One of these was the absence of Mr. Burton.

The owner of Halesford Hall had been from home for some weeks. "Called to furrin parts, they say, by urgent business. Very convenient at a time like this, when he could not well be amongst all this distress without putting his hand in his pocket," said Mr. Duff, bitterly. "It's a shame, a burning shame, that the biggest landowner in the neighbourhood should keep out of the way, at the time of all others when he should be doing his duty to his neighbours. I can only give a little, but I can trust you folks that want a bit o' credit, and I hope those in the meat and grocery lines will do the same."

Mr. James Burton was at home. His house was a small one in comparison with the Hall, but, if report said truly, it abounded in creature comforts.

"Mine is a little nutshell of a place," Mr. James would say in his airy fashion, "but big enough to hold an old bachelor and his few traps. 'Man wants but little here below,' you know, Mr. Duff. The 'dry morsel,' the 'dinner of herbs' and quietness are better than the 'stalled ox' under certain circumstances."

Mr. James Burton looked meaningly, and nodded as if he would express volumes by the movement of his head, and Mr. Duff felt gratified at what sounded to him like a confidential remark.

He could not quite see the drift of Mr. James's words, though he was, as the baker subsequently put it, "quoting Scripture like a parson."

Everybody who knew Mr. James was sure that "a dry morsel and a dinner of herbs" would be the last meal he would be likely to relish; for, if ever a man loved everything of the best, both for home and person, he was the one.

"And why not? I should like to know," said Mr. Duff. "Money is made round so as it may run. Isn't it better to keep it going than to lay it by where it does good to nobody? I know what Mr. James meant. The 'dinner of herbs' is just his comfortable little place where everything is as bright as a button, and the 'stalled ox' is like, in a way, to Halesford Hall with the master away, the money increasing and the servants on board wages and saving out of 'em. 'Like master like man.' They spend precious little."

Beside airing his opinions in converse with the baker and others, Mr. James Burton continued to distribute small coin broad-cast.

"Poor fellow!" he would say, as he dropped sixpence into the hand of a labourer out of work, "I wish I could give you any help worth having. But I am a small man with small means, and can only deal in trifles. If I were placed as some people are, I could do differently."

And then Mr. James would look towards the Hall, thus giving people to understand how differently he would act were he its master, and at the same moment bestow a penny on some little curly head that crossed his path, bidding her run to Mr. Duff's for a bun.

No wonder the baker sang the praises of Mr. James, and was surprised that Mrs. Brown did not agree with him in so doing.

The little woman was better off than many of her neighbours. She and her husband had been industrious, striving folks, and had started their married life with "something at their backs." They owned the cottage in which they lived and some six acres of land. These had been bequeathed to Mrs. Brown by the uncle who took her an orphan girl to keep house for him, after the death of her parents. Her husband went out to work when employment was to be had, and Mrs. Brown had her cows, which found her enough to do in addition to her household affairs.

So, when most of the neighbours were suffering, the Browns were not only far above want, but ready with warm hearts and open hands to help those who were less fortunate than themselves.

Mrs. Brown felt a little impatient when, standing once more at Mr. Duff's counter, she had to listen to his praises of generous Mr. James.

"I don't see as you do, Mr. Duff," she answered, with more decision than usual. "It seems to me that Mr. James's way of giving costs him very little. You may make a big show in sixpences and pence out of five shillings, when you take care to give every halfpenny in the streets and the market places and with all eyes upon you. Mr. James does not stint himself. He has fine out o' season fruit and vegetables sent all the way from London, and anybody knows what such-like things cost. He looks very pleasant and he talks in that humble way, as if he were boasting of being poor. But he talks like a poor man and spends on himself like a rich one."

"'Better spend than hoard,' is my motto, Mrs. Brown, and I stick to it. Maybe Mr. James might show more judgment in his spendings and his givings, but your generous people are generally just a trifle thoughtless. It's their nature so to be."

At this moment another customer entered the shop. She was pale and trembling and seemed to be terribly shocked at something.

Mr. Duff was struck with her appearance, and gave her a chair to sit down on.

"I am afraid you are ill," he said. "You look as if you had seen a ghost."

"I've seen worse," replied the woman, when she had recovered herself a little. "You knew old Ann Willis?"

The baker and Mrs. Brown assented, and the former added, "Who did not know her that knew Halesford? What is amiss with her?"

"She's dead," replied the woman, solemnly.

"Dead! Why she was here only yesterday afternoon, and standing by this very counter, Mr. James Burton gave her a shilling. He said, 'You want something to make you comfortable, Ann, this bitter weather; so here's an extra sixpence for you this time.'"

"Ay, and no doubt that shilling has been the death of her. She left the 'Black Swan' sadly the worse for drink at about eight o'clock, to go home to that miserable hut of hers, where there was not a soul to expect her, or to look for her, if she did not come. You know the short cut by the field corner where you have to cross a little bridge. Ann mostly went home that way, to save a few steps: and last night, having more than she could carry, she must have missed her footing and fallen from the bridge."

"Well! She could not drown, for the beck has been frozen hard for the last ten days," said Mr. Duff.

"No, but her head struck on the ice, and the blow knocked all the bit of sense out of her that drink had left. If she ever came to herself, she would have little chance of getting out of the bed of the stream without help, for the banks are very straight up near the bridge, but those that found her thought she had never moved after her head struck the ice."

The speaker's face was full of horror, and tears were streaming down little Mrs. Brown's cheeks as she heard the sad tale.

"How dreadful!" she exclaimed. "To think of falling down helpless and senseless, with nobody near to save or to hear if she had been able to cry for assistance. To die there, all alone. And so unfit to die. Poor old Ann! I have grieved for her many a time when she was living, but I am most sorry for her now."