feeling? Does she think I would take from her
as a charity what her husband knows is mine by right?"

"Perhaps her husband--"

"No," Mrs. Fletcher interrupted. "Why didn't he send it, then? why
didn't the company send it? They owe it. I'm not a pauper. And all the
other bondholders who need the money as much as I do! I'm not saying
that if the company sent it I should refuse it because the others had
been treated unjustly; but to take it as a favor, like a beggar!"

"Of course you cannot take it from Margaret," said Miss Forsythe sadly.

"How dreadful it is!"

Mrs. Fletcher would have shared her last crust with Miss Forsythe,
and if her own fortune were absolutely lost, she would not hesitate to
accept the shelter of her present home, using her energies to add to
their limited income, serving and being served in all love and trust.
But this is different from taking a bounty from the rich.

The check had to go back. Even my wife, who saw no insolence in
Margaret's attempt, applauded Mrs. Fletcher's spirit. She told Miss
Forsythe that if things did not mend they might get a few little pupils
for Mrs. Fletcher from the neighborhood, and Miss Forsythe knew that
she was thinking that her own boy might have been one of them if he had
lived. Mr. Morgan was a little satirical, as usual. He thought it would
be a pity to check Margaret's growing notion that there was no wrong
that money could not heal a remark that my wife thought unjust to the
girl. Mrs. Fletcher was for re-enclosing the check without a word of
comment, but that Miss Forsythe would not do.

"My dearest Margaret," she wrote, "I know the kindness of heart that
moved you to do this, and I love you more than ever, and am crying as
I think of it. But you must see yourself, when you reflect, that Mrs.
Fletcher could not take this from you. Her self-respect would not permit
it. Somebody has done a great wrong, and only those who have done it
can undo it. I don't know much about such things, my dear, and I don't
believe all that the newspapers have been saying, but there would be no
need for charity if there had not been dishonesty somewhere. I cannot
help thinking that. We do not blame you. And you must not take it to
heart that I am compelled to send this back. I understand why you sent
it, and you must try to understand why it cannot be kept."

There was more of this sort in the letter. It was full of a kind of
sorrowful yearning, as if there was fear that M