"This is Tuesday," resumed Peter. "Will we meet next Sat.u.r.day?"
"Yes," answered Sam, "and call it a week. Let"s throw in two days."
And so the week was begun.
On the next day, as Sam Green sat atop of his bench after dinner, he felt rather lost without his cigar, and for awhile he argued the question with himself, whether it wouldn"t be just as well for him to put an extra quarter into his box and have his cigars as usual. But he remembered his pledge. He looked forward to Sat.u.r.day, when he should find himself an amba.s.sador of mercy to the sick and needy--and his resolution grew strong again. That was his last real hesitation, though it must be confessed he had some trials and hankerings.
And so with the rest, they had some moments of doubt and mental warfare with appet.i.te and habit, but conquered, and were true.
Sat.u.r.day came, and the six youths left their work at noon, having done more than enough overwork to make up for the loss of the half day.
"Must have a time once in awhile, eh?" said Sam"s boss, as the young man pointed to the work he had done, and informed him that he should not work the rest of the day.
"Some sort of a time," replied Sam.
"Very well, but you"re too good a fellow to go very deep into dissipation."
"I"ll be up bright in the morning, sir;" and with this he left.
The new Benevolent Society met at Walter Mason"s tin-shop. Each took out his money and they had in all nine dollars, it being in thirty-six silver quarters.
"Now," says Peter, "let"s visit the three families we have taken under our charge. We"ll go together, and expend the money as we see it is most needed. Let us go to Uncle Israel"s first."
So off they went to Uncle Israel Trask"s. The old couple lived in a small hut at the edge of the village, which was reached by a narrow lane, and here the six philanthrophists found the old lady, who was now in her eightieth year, suffering with a severe attack of the rheumatism, while the old man sat crouched over the fire, shivering with cold.
"Good day, good day, Uncle Israel."
"Aha, good day, boys, good day," cried the old man, trying to smile.
"Can ye find seats? Sit down somewhere and make yourselves at home.
But ye see it"s a poor home that old Israel can offer ye to-day."
"But how are you getting along?" asked Peter, after the party had found seats.
"Ah, G.o.d a"mercy, I won"t complain, for he is taking meself and Molly home fast. Only cold and hunger are not kind helpmates, Mr. Hobbs, ye ken that, eh?"
"Right well, Uncle Israel. And we have come to help you. Do you want any medicine?"
"Nay, nay, the old "ooman"s got a" the medicine laid up we want. It"s only the food an" heat we need. I can"t wade through the drifting snow as I could once."
"Suppose we send you a dollar"s worth of other things, such as b.u.t.ter, flour, potatoes and the like--could you live a week on it?"
[Ill.u.s.tration: Pure Religion Is Visiting the Fatherless and Widows in Their Affliction.]
"Ah, yes, yes, boys, meself and Molly"d live a long, long while on that. But ye"ll not do it for us."
"Yes, we will."
"Ah, it"s too much."
"No, no," cried Sam, "we"ve got to do it, Uncle Israel, for we six have sworn to help you through the winter. So s.p.u.n.k up."
"D"ye mean that?" uttered the old man, clasping his thin, tremulous hands.
"We do," they all answered, and then Sam added, "and while one of us lives, you shall not suffer the want of what one of us can give."
A moment the old man bowed his snow-white head, and then while the big tears streamed down his face, he raised his eyes and murmured:--
"Oh! G.o.d"s blessin" be on ye, ye n.o.ble boys. If me heart was gold, an"
I could take it out an" give it ye--for it"s yours all, all your own!"
In a little while the six went away, promising to send or come back soon, and even after they had reached the yard they could hear the voices of Israel and his wife, both raised to G.o.d in blessings upon their heads.
"I say, Sam," said Peter, "this is better than cigars and ale."
"Don"t say a word now," replied Sam, "for my heart"s full, and I can"t bear any more."
Next, they drove through the biting wind and snow to the humble cot of Widow Manley. They found her in the only habitable room of her dwelling, sitting by a fire of chips and f.a.gots, with a babe asleep in her lap, and engaged in sewing a coa.r.s.e frock. Three other children were crouched by the fire, the eldest not yet eight years old.
Mr. Manley had been one of the many unfortunates who are swept off by rum, and in the prime of early manhood he had gone, leaving a young wife with four children in absolute penury.
"Ah, good day, Mrs. Manley."
The woman would have arisen, but Sam Green placed his hand upon her shoulders to keep her down.
"We have come," said Peter, seeing that she was anxious and fearful, "to see how you get along, and see if we can help you."
"Help me, sir?" uttered the widow with amazement.
"Yes; now tell us plainly how you are situated."
The woman was silent for a few moments, but at length she seemed to regain her self-control, and replied:--
"Ah, gentlemen, it is all comprised in three short words: Hunger, cold, and nakedness!"
"And if we will supply you with food and fuel for a week, can you manage to get along until that time without more clothing?"
"Oh--h--yes--sirs. But what is it? Who can help us? Who can care for the--"
"We can, we will," cried the energetic Sam, not so good to plan as Peter, but good at execution. "We six have pledged ourselves to see you safe through the winter. So cheer up and take hope, for neither you nor your children shall suffer while we can help it."
The widow"s hands were clasped and her eyes wandered vacantly from one to the other of her strange visitors. She saw tears of goodness in their eyes, and her own soul"s flood burst forth.
"O G.o.d bless you--bless you always."
"And we shall have something good to eat, mamma, and something to make us warm?" asked the eldest girl, clasping her mother"s knees.
"Yes, yes, you shall," exclaimed Drake, catching the child and kissing her clean, pale face. "You shall have it before supper time, too."