"Then," said Helen, with more animation, "let us chip in—all three of us—and purchase the very nicest kind of an outfit for Wonota—a real party dress and 'all the fixin's,' girls! What say?"
"I vote 'Aye!'" agreed Jennie.
"The thought is worthy of you, Helen," said Ruth proudly. "You always do have the nicest ideas. And I am sure it will please Wonota to be dressed as were some of the girls we saw in the audiences at the theatres we took her to."
"But!" ejaculated Jennie Stone, "we can't possibly get that sort of clothes out of a mail-order catalog."
"I know just what we can do, Jennie. There is your very own dressmaker—that Madame Joné you took me to."
"Oh! Sure! Mame Jones, you mean!" cried the fleshy girl with enthusiasm. "Aunt Kate has known Mame since she worked as an apprentice with some Fifth Avenue firm. Now Madame Joné goes to Paris—when there is no war on—twice a year. She will do anything I ask her to."
"That is exactly what I mean," Helen said. "It must be somebody who will take an interest in Wonota. Send your Madame Joné a photograph of Wonota—"
"Several of them," exclaimed Ruth, interested as well, although personally she did not care so much for style as her chums. "Let the dressmaker get a complete idea of what Wonota looks like."
"And the necessary measurements," Helen said. "Give her carte blanche as to goods and cost—"
"Would that be wise?" interposed the more cautious Ruth.