“The insolence of the thing!” cried Mrs. Fletcher, as soon as she comprehended it.

“Not insolence,” pleaded Miss Forsythe, softly; “it is out of the kindness of her heart.  She would be dreadfully wounded to know that you took it so.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Fletcher, hotly, “I like that kind of sensibility.  Does she think I have no 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.”