he cook was
almost beside herself with grief as she told the story, and said she
must leave us and care for her sister, who could not live more than a
week at the longest. I pitied the poor girl. Robert, don't you think
we could do something for the family? We have so much ourselves. We
could easily help them and not miss a single luxury."

"And where would such help end? If we give to every needy person who
comes along we shall be beggars ourselves. Besides, I can't afford it.
The boys are a heavy expense to me while they are in college, and the
company has been cutting down salaries lately. If the cook's sister is
married to a railroad man, he is probably getting good wages and can
support her all right."

"What if that railroad man were injured and made a cripple for life?"
inquired Mrs. Hardy quietly.

"Then the insurance companies or the societies can help them out. I
don't see how we can make every case that comes along our care. There
would be no end of it if we once began."

"As nearly as I can find out," continued Mrs. Hardy, without replying
to her husband's remarks, "cook's sister is married to one of the men
who was hurt this afternoon. She talks so brokenly in our language
that I could not make out exactly how it is; and she was much excited.
Suppose it was Scoville: couldn't you do something for them then,
Robert?"

"I might," replied Mr. Hardy briefly. "But I can tell you, I have more
calls for my money now than I can meet. Take the church expenses for
example. Why, we are called upon to give to some cause or other every
week, besides our regular pledges for current expenses. It's a
constant drain. I shall have to cut down on my pledge. We can't be
giving to everything all the time, and have anything ourselves."

Mr. Hardy spoke with a touch of indignation. His wife glanced around
the almost palatial room and smiled; then her face grew a little stern
and almost forbidding, as she remembered that only last week her
husband had spent $150 for a new electrical apparatus to experiment
with in his laboratory. And now he was talking hard times, and
grudging the small sums he gave to religious objects in connection with
his church, and thinking he could not afford to help the family of a
man who had once saved his life.

Again she turned to the piano and played a while, but she could not be
rested by the music as sometimes she had been. When she finally arose
and walked over by the ta