“Oh, how good you are!” exclaimed Midget. “And what about furniture, Mr. Adams?”
“Well, my wife, and a few other ladies, are already talking that matter over. They think that many of our citizens will contribute some beds, chairs, and tables; and so, if you have any discarded things like that in your attic, you may donate them. But don’t give anything your mother might want to keep.”
“All right,” returned Marjorie. “I’ll go over to see Mrs. Adams after breakfast, and we’ll see what we can do.”
Midget felt very grown up at being consulted by Mr. Adams, and it was with an air of importance that she returned to the breakfast table. She told of Mr. Adams’ kindness in letting the Simpsons use his vacant house, which was really a pretty little cottage on a pleasant street.
“Whew!” said King, “they’ll have to brace up if they’re going to live in a house like that. Why, it’s an awful jolly little place.”
“It may be a good thing for them,” said Mr. Mortimer. “Teach them self-respect, and help them to try to keep their heads up.”
“Won’t it be fun to fix it up for them!” exclaimed Marjorie. “I shall give them my old bureau cover—my new one is nearly finished.”
“Ho!” said King; “they need lots of things much more than a bureau cover. Let’s ask Mr. Smith, the grocer, to give them a barrel of flour.”
“Don’t strike too high,” advised Mr. Mortimer; “ask him for a sack of flour, and you’re more likely to get it. Why don’t you children canvass the town? I’m sure you could wheedle more charity out of the shopkeepers and other citizens than all the city authorities together.”
“I’d like to,” said Marjorie, dubiously, “but I don’t know whether Father would approve of that. Once we were a Village Improvement Society, and we got into an awful fuss!”