“Well—­I’ve a pound or two outstanding,” he’ll say.  “But—­I suppose I owe more than there is owing to me.”

There’s one, ye’ll see, who’s not mean, not close fisted.  He’s easy wi’ his money; he’d as soon spend his siller as no.  And where is he when the pinch comes—­to himself or to a friend?  He can do nothing, d’ye ken, to help, because he’s not saved his siller and been carefu’ with it.

I’ve helped friends and strangers, when I could.  But I’ve always tried to do it in such a way that they would help themselves the while.  When there’s real distress it’s time to stint yourself, if need be, to help another.  That’s charity—­real charity.  But is it charity to do as some would do in sich a case as this?

Here’ll be a man I know coming tae me.

“Harry,” he’ll say, “you’re rich—­it won’t matter to you.  Lend me the loan of a ten-pound note for a few weeks.  I’d like to be putting oot some siller for new claes.”

And when I refuse he’ll call me mean.  He’ll say the ten pounds wouldn’t matter to me—­that I’d never miss them if he never did return the siller.  Aye, and that’s true enough.  But if I did it for him why would I not be doing it for Tom and Dick and Harry, too?  No!  I’ll let them call me mean and close fisted and every other dour thing it pleases them to fancy me.  But I’ll gae my ain gait wi’ my ain siller.

I see too much real suffering to care about helping those that can help themselves—­or maun do without things that aren’t vital.  In Scotland, during the war, there was the maist terrible distress.  It’s a puir country, is Scotland.  Folk there work hard for their living.  And the war made it maist impossible for some, who’d sent their men to fight.  Bairns needed shoes and warm stockings in the cold winters, that they micht be warm as they went to school.  And they needed parritch in their wee stomachs against the morning’s chill.

Noo, I’ll not be saying what Mrs. Lauder and I did.  We did what we could.  It may have been a little—­it may have been mair.  She and I are the only ones who ken the truth, and the only ones who wull ever ken it—­that much I’ll say.  But whenever we gave help she knew where the siller was going, and how it was to be spent.  She knew that it would do real good, and not be wasted, as it would have been had I written a check for maist of those who came to me for aid.

When you talk o’ charity, Mrs. Lauder and I think we know it when we see it.  We’ve handled a goodly share of siller, of our own, and of gude friends, since the war began, that’s gone to mak’ life a bit easier for the unfortunate and the distressed.

I’ve talked a deal of the Fund for Scottish Wounded that I raised—­ raised with Mrs. Lauder’s help.  We’ve collected money for that wherever we’ve gone, and the money has been spent, every penny of it, to make life brighter and more worth living for the laddies who fought and suffered that we micht all live in a world fit for us and our bairns.