"
"I must first learn to show more patience at home."
He did not make any reply; but as we were speeding on our way that
afternoon in the cars, he came to my side and handed me a small roll of
bills.
"Would you like to buy that widower friend of yours a warm suit of
clothes for the winter? Mrs. Flaxman will show you a suitable furnishing
establishment. Philanthropists must do all sorts of things, as you will
find."
"You are very kind after all, Mr. Winthrop. I wish I could tell you how
grateful I am. Please forgive all my rude speeches--I hope I will never
get provoked with you again."
"I most certainly hope you will. A little spice adds greatly to the
flavor of one's daily food."
He walked away; and first counting my gift, I found, to my surprise, that
it amounted to fifty dollars. I opened my little velvet satchel--my
traveling companion for many a weary mile--and laid it safely in one of
the pockets. I had plenty of leisure that afternoon for fancy to paint
all sorts of pictures. Mr. Winthrop was at the farther end of the car,
with a group of friends he had met; and Mrs. Flaxman, a nervous traveler
at the best, was trying to forget the discomforts of travel as she sat
with her easy-chair wheeled into a sheltered corner, sleeping as much as
possible. I watched the rapidly disappearing views from my windows, some
of them causing pleasant thoughts, and sometimes re-touching memories so
remote they seemed like experiences of another existence, which my soul
had known before it came under its present limitations.
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