At the beginning, Ashlyn was reluctant to act like the other beggers, sitting on the street sides, looking poor and excepting whatever they could get. She thought that it was beneath her. She could do better. Surely if she did something besides sit and whine it would get her more. Nah, it got her less. No one likes a woman with her head screwed on right. At least not a poor woman.
So Sunday, she found herself sitting at the bottom of the Cathedral's steps, waiting for the morning mass to conclude. People seemed more charitable after services, but most felt too ashamed to beg near the church. Perhaps they felt they had too much sin. Either way, she sat with her shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders, fiddling with a small, rusted metal cup that she had found a few weeks prior.
Then the bells rang and she look up behind her as the sun as peeking out from behind the steeple. She blinked once or twice; she had forgotten how bright it was. But the warmth felt good. The doors creaked open and she glaze quickly moved to the large doors as they opened and people began to stream out.
She had found she didn't need to do much. People would drop coins her way. Besides, she hadn't had a meal in nearly three days, she barely at the strength to stand.
James Pryer was a man who believed in God with all his heart and soul. He also believed that it was his Christian duty to help the unfortunate. Further, he was quite certain that it was entirely possible, with enough determination, to actually make a dent in the misery and poverty in the world. As any good Protestant knew, hard work and perseverance would always lead to accomplishment and fulfilment. Or at least that was the theory, and James felt, as a personal conviction, that it was true—except that perhaps every now and then one person would need a leg up from another in order for the hard work and perseverance to pay off. And that was where the Christian duty came in; it was simply the right thing to do to give the help that another needed, if at all possible. James himself, finding that he was quite often in a position to give such help, never begrudged it, and encouraged others to do the same.
As it so happened, the sermon today, between the various ritual parts of the service, had been on exactly the subject of the Christian duty of the fortunate to the poor and destitute. James had listened to every word, quite agreeing with the priest’s points; he was aware of some uncomfortable shufflings in the Cathedral, as though not everyone were so welcoming of the sermon, but he chose to regard these as simply the movements of good souls being inspired to even greater efforts. He was one of those happy people who thought the best about everyone, and assumed that his thoughts were correct. His normal work, which he enjoyed, consisted largely of helping those less fortunate than him. He knew, without a doubt, that the sermon today would help instil this virtue in the congregation, and that they would be warmed by it as he was.
Thus, when he came out of the Cathedral, he was in rather good spirits, the result of an untroubled conscience. And when he spotted a lady quite obviously down on her luck sitting at the bottom of the Cathedral steps, he did not behave as the other parishioners did. Most of them walked past her, troubling themselves only to drop tuppence or so in her cup. Others avoided her altogether, going down the outside parts of the steps, and still others did not avoid her, but instead walked straight past as if she did not even exist. James, however, headed straight for her. He’d discovered the thing that he was going to do today. He was going to help this woman, in anything that she needed help with. After all, it was Sunday, so he couldn’t work. But he could help the less fortunate—Jesus himself had done that on Sabbath, in the Bible, so it was clearly morally correct to do so.
He was not at all ashamed of being seen with her, as some others might have been. After all, how could her status reflect upon him? She was wearing a worn dress and her head had no covering, indicating a very low level of subsistence to James; the only thing that he drew from this information was a desire to help her, not an instinctive avoidance to protect his own comfort, reputation, or what-have-you that caused others to pass her by. So he headed for the woman, intent on seeing her on her way to a better life. As he descended to within a couple steps, however, he discovered that she was very thin, and she held herself and her cup in a manner that indicated an extreme lack of nourishment. He had seen it many times before at the Halfax Charity Hospital on his periodic visits.
Obviously, God had sent her here, either directly or indirectly, so that James might help her. The woman probably would not last much longer without assistance. He stepped down the remaining couple of steps, arriving beside the woman and holding out his hand with a wide, warming grin and introduced himself thusly: “Good afternoon! I am James Pryer, and I am ever so pleased to make your acquaintance! May I have your name?”
His voice, practically bubbling with good-will, ceased, but his enthusiastic smile remained in place.
Ashlyn tried to gather the coins quickly when they fell away from her. As usual, only about a third of the crowd even gave her compassionate looks. Others either looked scared or annoyed by her presence. And of that one third, one about a third of them dropped a coin or two. And those she thanked quietly so that she didn't seem greedy. The less greedy you sound, the more coins drop, she had found.
The crowd began to disperse and less people were now coming down the stairs from the Cathedral. The tiny clang of another coin could be heard as she dropped it in her cup. If she had been in better spirits she might have tried to say 'God bless you' to those who were so charitable towards her. But she truly didn't want God to bless them, she wanted God to bless her if he was about the business of blessing people.
But she would want to retract that thought only moments later.
She glanced over to see another man coming out of the church. Her looked rather jolly and weather. But she didn't expect much out of him. But he seemed to be heading right towards her. She tired to gather that last coin and then stood quickly. She thought him a deacon of the church or something, come to tell her to get off his steps. She had enough money for at least a loaf of bread and some to save. She was more than willing to leave.
But his words truly surprised her.
“Good afternoon! I am James Pryer, and I am ever so pleased to make your acquaintance! May I have your name?”
She looked over with a very much confused look on her dirtied face. Her tangled, red hair hanging out of her bun, mostly around her face. Her wanted her name?! Surely he wanted her arrested then. "No sir! I'm sorry but you may not," she told him as sternly as she possibly could, though her voice was still quiet so that no one could really hear what she was saying.
The dissipating crowd of church-goers had begun to avoid the entire spot where the two of them were talking. Some of them appeared relieved that someone else was taking up the burden of being a Good Samaritan; others shot curious glances as though asking why anyone would purposefully choose to talk to a woman of such obviously low calibre; still others sent pitying looks at them, although it might be disputed if they were directed at James for—they assumed—being accosted, or directed at the woman for her misfortune. The rest averted their eyes entirely so as not to possibly be drawn in to the conversation. All of this escaped James’ notice, however, as his attention was focused on the woman in front of him.
The woman appeared bewildered by James’ address, and for a moment only looked at him. It was a study of contrast between the two of them; whereas the woman was obviously poor, her face carrying a slight coating of dirt and her hair not altogether neatly pinned up, James was evidently wealthy, sparkling clean and dressed to the nines in his morning church-wear. Then the brief moment of observation was over, and the woman’s face became stern, closing out any sign of friendliness and wiping away the confusion in a severe expression. James’ smile never wavered. He was surprised, but hardly intimidated or disconcerted, when she said, “No sir! I'm sorry but you may not.” It was very nearly impossible to hear her, so softly did she speak. James considered what she might intend by this.
Sometimes, those who had fallen on hard times had trouble accepting charity. By refusing to give her name, the woman might be trying to tell him that she did not want his help. Yet it was hard for him to believe this was the case; she was holding an alms-cup right in front of the Cathedral and therefore could not be simply refusing assistance. However, there was a particular sort of person that would accept charity, yet do so only when anonymity was guaranteed; James had thought before that it must be a self-defence mechanism of the ego, in order to be able to regain lost pride at some later time. He was not quite certain how it worked, or why some people were like that, but neither was he bothered by it. Thousands of people were treated by charity hospitals every year, and though many were well enough to give their names, many others were not and were treated without the nurses and doctors knowing that piece of information.
Thus reasoning that he could still help the woman without knowing her name, James continued the conversation as though what she had said was exactly the correct and most polite reply. Since the woman had not taken the hand that he offered in greeting, he simply retracted the extended limb and clasped it behind his back with the other. He said cheerfully, “That’s quite all right then; perhaps some other time you might honour me with it. I pray you don’t take offence at this, Miss, but I cannot help but notice that you seem somewhat under the weather. I should be pleased to provide any assistance that you need. Are you very hungry? I know a delightful little bakery just down the way.”