"He has his uses, but I cannot bear him. I don't know who is to
blame--whether it is Miss Wort or Lady Latimer--but there is no peace at
Beechhurst now for begging. They have plenty of money, and little enough
to do with it. I call _giving_ the greatest of luxuries, but, bless you!
giving is not all charity. Miss Wort spends a fortune in eleemosynary
physic to half poison poor folks; Lady Latimer indulges herself in a
variety of freaks: her last was a mechanical leg for old Bumpus, who had
been happy on a wooden peg for forty years; we were all asked to
subscribe, and he doesn't thank us for it. As soon as one thing is done
with, up starts another that we are entreated to be interested
in--things we don't care about one bit. Old Phipps protests that it is
vanity and busy-bodyism. I hope I shall never grow so hard-hearted as to
see a poor soul want and not help her, but I hate to be canvassed for
alms on behalf of other people's benevolent objects--don't you?"

"It has never happened to me. I remember that my father used to appeal
to Lady Latimer and Miss Wort when his poor patients had not fit diet.
Lady Latimer was his chief Lady Bountiful."

"That may be true, but it is possible to have too much of a good thing.
I love fair play. The schools, now--they were very good schools before
ever she came into the Forest; yes, as far back as your father's time,
Bessie Fairfax--and yet, to hear the way in which she is belauded by a
certain set, one might suppose that she had been the making of them. But
it is the same all the world over--a hundred hands do the work, and one
name gets all the praise!" Miss Buff was growing warm over her
reminiscences, but catching the spark of mischief in Bessie's eyes, she
laughed, and added with great candor: "Yes, I confess there is a spice
of rivalry between us, but I am very fond of her all the same."