"If who said?" It took a long time to establish the identity of the
Terrible Shirt.
"If he did, the man it belongs to."
"What man—who?"
"The man that writes things."
"What things?"
"We don't know exactly. Evangeline thinks tracts. She says his room was all full o' half sheets o' paper—lying all over everywhere. She saw 'Good Lord' on one. Perhaps it's sermons. Mother always sent Evangeline home with his wash; I never went. He is a very nice man—oh, that's why I feel so bad about his shirt! I wouldn't care if he was an—an infidel!"
"Bless your heart!"
Miss Theodosia turned suddenly and embraced Stefana and the shirt.
"Don't worry any more," she said; "you and I will work wonders with that
Tract Man's shirt! Stefana, put the kettle on and we'll go to it!
There's nothing two determined people can't do, once they've put their
minds on it."
Together they labored, and the impossible happened. Theodosia Baxter did up a man! She—and Stefana—succeeded in getting the starch out of the surrounding area and into the bosom of the Terrible Shirt. They got much starch in. Inspiration appeared to come to Miss Theodosia. Even the really awful task of ironing that bosom till it glittered and shone in unwrinkled board-like expanse was at length accomplished. Miss Theodosia was justly proud of herself—and of Stefana; she insisted upon including Stefana in her triumphs.
"Eureka!" she exulted. "Call Evangeline, Stefana, and Elly Precious, and Carruthers! Call in a Chinaman, if you like, and tell him to look at that! Ask him to beat it!"