"
"That's why I wouldn't take it," rejoined Cosmo. "If I had thought
you were well off, I would not have hesitated."
"Oh! aw'm noan so pinched at present," she answered with a smile.
"Tak th' loaf, an' welcome, an' pey mo when yo' can."
Cosmo put down her name and address in his pocket-book, and as he
took the loaf, kissed the toil-worn hand that gave it him. She
uttered a little cry of remonstrance, threw her apron over her
head, and went back to the house, sobbing.
The tide rose in Cosmo's heart too, but he left the hamlet eating
almost ravenously. Another might have asked himself where dinner
was to come from, and spared a portion; but that was not Cosmo's
way. He would have given half his loaf to any hungry man he met,
but he would not save the half of it in view of a possible need
that might never come. Every minute is a to-morrow to the minute
that goes before it, and is bound to it by the same duty-roots that
make every moment one with eternity; but there is no more occasion
to bind minute to minute with the knot-grass of anxiety, than to
ruin both to-day and the grand future with the cares of a poor
imaginary tomorrow. To-day's duty is the only true provision for
to-morrow; and those who are careful about the morrow are but the
more likely to bring its troubles upon them by the neglect of duty
which care brings. Some say that care for the morrow is what
distinguishes the man from the beast; certainly it is one of the
many things that distinguish the slave of Nature from the child of
God.
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