Idleness..

The hand stretched out before me did not stir feelings of gentleness and compassion... Its owner was a young girl, health laughing upon her face; and but for her shabby clothes, her plump body would have looked the match of any lady pillowed on ease... And when I passed her by, I heard her whisper boldly:

"Daughter of a dog"...

The response was a smile, and then a questioning thought: is it not natural that resentment should boil up in her breast as she glimpses the difference between her appearance and the appearance of someone who works and lives respected?..

By her behavior she casts out the treasures that idleness and emptiness have heaped up in her breast. And her behavior is a picture of the deprived one's resentment against whoever enjoys the things she craves... Her whisper is one of the spurts of blood that such breasts throw up.