Altogether the bill amounted to seven dollars and sixty-four cents. Not so bad, after all. The woman paid it without a bit of grumbling.
"It's a good cause," she said. "I often think of the poor fellows out there," nodding her head; "and sence the Lord gives 'em strength and courage to go, we ought to do something besides prayin' for 'em. My old man he put up a lot of turkeys an' chickens, an' apples and onions, an' sez he, 'Though we ain't any children out there, we've neighbors and friends, and every chap among the lot deserves a Thanksgiving dinner.'"
Kathie forgot all about the red and purple, thinking of the red, white, and blue, and of the tender place in this woman's heart.
"I want to give you a little picture to frame," she said to "Sary Ann"; "it will help you to remember me, as well as the cause."
It was a pretty colored photograph of two children,—"The Reconciliation."
The girl was so delighted that the quick tears sprang to her eyes. "There's no fear of my forgetting you," she declared, warmly. "I've had a splendid time!"
Kathie opened her portmonnaie and dropped the quarter in the drawer. Her mother had taught her to be scrupulously honest about such matters, and she wanted the gift to be altogether hers.
It was getting quite dusky now. Uncle Robert had brought Mrs. Alston over in the pony-carriage, and was to take Kathie back, "to smooth her ruffled plumes," the child said; for the knot of girls around Emma Lauriston had been discussing what they would wear.