Of all
forms of insolence there is none more flagrant than that of the
degraded poor receiving charity which they have come to regard as a
right.
Jane did speak at length. Miss Lant had called to see her in Hanover
Street; seated quietly in her own parlour, with Michael Snowdon to
approve--with him she had already discussed the matter--Jane
ventured softly to compare the present state of things and that of
former winters, as described to her by various people.
'Wasn't it rather a pity,' she suggested, 'that the old people were
sent away?'
'You think so?' returned Miss Lant, with the air of one to whom a
novel thought is presented. 'You really think so, Miss Snowdon?'
'They got on so well with everybody,' Jane continued. 'And don't you
think it's better, Miss Lant, for everybody to feel satisfied?'
'But really, Mr. Batterby used to speak so very harshly. He
destroyed their self-respect.'
'I don't think they minded it,' said Jane, with simple good faith.
'And I'm always hearing them wish he was back, instead of the new
managers.'
'I think we shall have to consider this,' remarked the lady,
thoughtfully.
Considered it was, and with the result that the Batterbys before
long found themselves in their old position, uproariously welcomed
by Shooter's Gardens.
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