Mrs. Ford considered for a moment. “If you want to go and ask her, I see no harm in it, but you’d better wait till Friday morning, so the flowers will be fresh, if you get any.”
Therefore, Mrs. Knight received a second visit from the children, as she was busy making some of her famous cinnamon-bun, on Friday morning. Mabel explained their errand and met with a hearty response.
“Give you some flowers? To be sure, I will, gladly; and you can have every one in the garden, if you want them.”
“Oh, we couldn’t carry every one,” said Harold, in all seriousness. Mrs. Knight laughed. “Thee is literal enough for a Friend,” she said. “Then I will not give thee all my flowers, but how would thee like a loaf of my bun? I’ll warrant they’ll not have any like it at thy friend’s party, Mabel. But I give it to thee, and thee must donate it in thy name.”
“Oh, would that be fair?” asked the little girl.
“Does thee think a Friend would tell thee to do a thing unfair? Then if thy compunctions are even more tender than mine I will give it to thee to do with as thee chooses.”
“But, can you spare it, Mrs. Knight?”
“I can make more when I want it,” she returned. “I always keep it on hand, for I am fond of it myself, thee sees.”
Therefore, with their hands and arms laden, they returned to the city, and the exclamations of appreciation which met them when their donations were handed in, warmed their hearts mightily, and made Mabel, at least, feel much more that she was a welcome guest.
Still, Marie and Ethel had not yet greeted her, and she rather anxiously waited to find out how they would act when they saw her there.