Sometime after Miss Lydia’s cousin Fanny had left her, little Lydia, on her return from a walk with the maid, ran, all in tears, into her Mamma’s room; and told her, that little Sally’s mother was in very great distress.

Lydia.

She owes, Mamma, four guineas to Mr. Flint for living in his house; and because she has not money to pay him, he is going to take every thing she has, and turn her into the street. The poor woman and children were crying so sadly when I went by the door, that it made me quite uncomfortable, as Miss Seymour says, to see them.

The poor woman said, she and her children must go into the workhouse. The little girl was crying to see her mother cry; and the boy said, they would take away his rabbit, and his little chair in which he used to sit by the fire-side. Do, pray, Mamma, do something for the poor woman. Perhaps, if you speak to Mr. Flint he will not take her things.

Mamma.

My dear love, I know Mr. Flint better than you do: it is not possible to persuade him to forego his money; and as to assisting her with four guineas, it is more than I can well spare; besides, you know there are many people in distress as well as she.

Lydia.

Perhaps so: but I have seen this poor woman and the children cry so! and the little ones have been so civil to me!

Mamma.

I am sincerely sorry for them.—Why do you look so earnestly at me, Lydia?—Have you any money at all?

Lydia.

No, Mamma; I have no money; but you know, Mamma, you were going to buy me a pink silk slip, to wear under my muslin frock. What would that have cost?—I can do very well with my dimity ones.

Mamma.

My dearest girl! come to my arms, and enjoy a pleasure you so richly deserve! that of making the poor people happy. Your slip would not have cost two guineas, so that sacrifice alone would not do; but you have set me a noble example; and I will also give up a carpet which I intended to buy for my dressing-room; and the price of that added to the other, will be sufficient to redeem Mrs. Brush’s goods, and set her mind at ease.

Lydia.

My dear Mamma! I am so glad! Then I may go directly with the money?

Mamma.

We will go together. You would be at a loss by yourself. Go, pray, and ask for my great-coat and my gloves.

Lydia flew like lightening; and her Mamma being soon equipped, they hastened to Mrs. Brush.

The first thing they saw, was all her little scholars turned out of the room, and in a heap before the door crying.

When they went in, they found every thing pulled out of its place: a rough looking man had dragged her bedstead down stairs; and the little boy stood with his eyes fixed upon him, and sobbing said, What must mammy and I do for a bed? I am sure Mr. Flint does not want this: he has got a great many fine beds.

Upon being asked where his mammy was? he said in the garden. As they were passing through to go to her, they saw another man just going to pull her little copper down. Miss Lydia’s Mamma begged he would desist a little while, and he should not be a loser by it. She then went on; at the further end of the garden they saw the little girl and her mother in an arbour, which they had taken great pains to adorn with roses and honeysuckles; and in which they were now sitting, as they supposed, for the last time: they were weeping bitterly. The little girl’s eyes were fixed on the parrot, which hung on a tree near them, and which seemed to take part with them, by crying every minute, Poor Poll! What’s the matter?

The Lady and her daughter went on towards them; but as they were walking a young woman entered the garden hastily, and rushing by them, ran up to the woman, and catching hold of her arm, with great affection said, Thank God, cousin! I am come just in time! As soon as ever I heard you were in trouble, I left my place; and what with my wages, and the money I have raised upon my cloaths, I have been able to bring you enough to pay your rent. Take the four guineas, and let us get these frightful people out of the house.

The good woman looked very much amazed, and was silent for a moment; then again bursting into tears; God forbid, my dear Jenny! said she, that I should strip you. No, I can bear my own troubles; but I could never support the thought, that I had taken your bread out of your mouth. How could you think of leaving your place? so good a one as you had: and what have you done with your cloaths? I never thought I should be the occasion of doing you so much harm.

While these two friends were talking thus, the Lady and her daughter came up to them. The unfortunate woman, in the midst of her trouble, did not neglect to pay them proper respect: the young person stopped to make them a courtesy, and then earnestly went on. Never think about me, I am young, and can get my living; and after all you have done for me, I should be the most ungrateful creature in the world did I not assist you. If it had not been for you, I should not have been alive now; or, if I had, I should have been in a workhouse. When I was ill with that fever, you nursed me, laid me in your own bed, and sat up with me yourself, to tend me; and then paid my doctor’s bill, that I might not be obliged to sell my cloaths: and have not you the best right to them?

I a right! no, indeed said her cousin.

Surely you have, returned she: the money you spent upon me would have paid almost two years rent; and now you who lived so neatly, and so comfortably, are going to be pulled all to pieces. You will break my heart if you do not take the money: but why should I stand arguing with you, when I can go and pay the money myself. So saying, she was hastening out of the garden; when Miss Lydia’s Mamma catching hold of her, said, I was unwilling to interrupt so generous a dispute, and I waited a little to see what would be the end of it: but as to the rent, my daughter and I came on purpose to discharge it. Receive from my daughter (Mrs. Brush) four guineas, which we were going to spend otherwise; but upon nothing that would have given us half the pleasure which we feel in putting you in possession of your house again. As to you, young woman, your conduct is above all reward from man; and yet I wish—

It was impossible for the Lady to go on; the joy and gratitude of these worthy people quite overpowered her; and the only way she could get rid of their thanks, was by hurrying them into the house, to secure all the goods.

When the rent was discharged, and the men sent away, Mrs. Brush and her cousin were able to converse more composedly with their benefactors. The former, in the midst of her joy, expressed great concern that her cousin had thrown herself out of place; and asked, with great anxiety, what she had done with her cloaths?

The young woman said, she could not rest a moment, after she heard from an acquaintance, who called upon her, that her landlord was very cruel to her; and that she expected every day to have her goods seized for rent. That she, therefore, went directly to her mistress, and told her, that a relation in the country wanted her very much, and begged to be discharged.

She would not tell her the whole story for fear she should oppose her intentions; and as to asking leave to go out for a time, she could not expect to return to her place, when she had disposed of all her cloaths.

Her mistress appeared displeased; but paid her her wages, which was about a guinea: that she then sold some of her cloaths, and pawned the rest to raise the remainder, and as much as would pay her passage from London; however, as to her cloaths, she said, she had not a doubt but she could get them again; for the woman who took them was a very good sort of woman, and indeed could hardly be persuaded to receive them of her.

And do you think, Mrs. Jenny, said the Lady, your mistress could not be prevailed on to take you again? Surely, if she knew the whole truth, she would think herself happy in such a servant.

It is not probable she should have got another in so short a time. You shall return as soon as you can; and I will send a letter by you to the lady you have left, to inform her from what generous motives you left her so abruptly. I will take my leave of you both now; and in an hour’s time the letter shall be ready.

The young woman called at the time mentioned for the letter; and after many expressions of gratitude for the kindness shown to her cousin and herself, returned to London, carried it to her late mistress, and in a few days, Miss Lydia had the pleasure of knowing, that her Mamma had received a letter from the lady, to thank her for restoring so valuable a servant to her, and to inform her, that as her own maid was going to be married, she meant to take her to wait upon herself; and should ever esteem a person capable of such noble conduct, rather as a friend than a servant.