“The very thing!” said Miss Ruth. “Miss Hartwell, who is at the head of the Convalescent Home, told me only yesterday that about fifty children are there now. Of course the playthings wear out, and when the children go back to their homes, cured, they want to take with them the toys they have grown fond of. But what have you named your club?” asked Miss Ruth, turning to Betty.
“That’s what we can’t decide about,” said Betty. “We want you to name it and be president.”
“But this is such a great honour!” exclaimed Miss Ruth. Her brown eyes had a way of laughing, even when her face was sober.
“Now, Miss Ruth,—don’t laugh at us, please,” begged Betty, slipping her arm around Miss Ruth’s neck.
“Why not name it the Christmas Makers’ Club,” suggested Miss Ruth, with serious eyes now, “—especially if you decide to make things for the convalescent children?”
“That’s the very best name we could have!” cried Betty, jumping up and clapping her hands.
“Splendid!” exclaimed Alice, two dimples showing in her soft pink cheeks.
“It sounds like all sorts of interesting things,” said Elsa, coming to Miss Ruth’s side and timidly stroking her sleeve.
“We must keep it a secret, though. We mustn’t tell the name to anybody,” said Betty, perching herself on the arm of Miss Ruth’s chair, at the other side. “People will have to know there is a club, but they mustn’t know anything more than that.”
“How will you keep your work a secret?” asked Miss Ruth.