She tossed her some tiny satin sleeves, already cut and basted, and offered a furnished work-basket.
“’Deed I will!” said Patty, and in a few moments she too was sewing, as deftly, if not quite so rapidly, as Clementine.
“You see, Clem,” she went on, “I’ve been so busy ever since I came home, that I simply forgot the poor people. And now it’s too late.”
“It’s too late to make things,” agreed Clementine, “but not too late to buy them.”
“But I’ve spent all my Christmas money,” said Patty, contritely. “Father gives me a liberal allowance, and then extra, for Christmas money. And it’s just about all gone, and I hate to ask him for more.”
“Well, never mind, Patsy, you can make up for it next year. And if you help me dress these dolls, that will square up your conscience.”
“No, it won’t. But I’ll find a way to do something, somehow. Are these Sunshine people all babies?”
“Oh, no; the society helps all sorts of poor people, children and grown-ups too. Mother is one of the directors, and we do a lot of this doll-dressing every year.”
“Well, I’ll help you a while this afternoon, but I won’t have another chance. You see just about every moment is taken up from now till Christmas.”
“You’re going to the Farringtons’, aren’t you?”