“Have we stayed too long?” Elsa inquired anxiously, stopping behind the others and lifting her serious eyes to Miss Hartwell’s face.
“No, dear; there are still a few moments left of the time I had set for your little Club to stay.”
Elsa did not tell this to the other children or to her uncle. Already, however, she had learned what her uncle did not yet know, but what he learned later: that while the first visit to the Convalescent Home is saddening, each time after that the place grows more and more interesting and less sad to visit.
At the door Mr. Ned Danforth turned and shook hands briskly with the head-nurse.
“Splendid place here!” he said, again very gruffly. “Noble work you are doing! Thank you for your kindness to us.” Then he thrust a large-sized bill into her hand, saying in a desperate sort of way, “Use it to do something more for those children!”
And Ben suddenly remembered the small white box containing five dollars and sixty cents which he had in his pocket. He pulled it forth and handed it to Miss Hartwell with a profound bow: “It is some money that the Christmas Makers’ Club—that’s us—have earned all ourselves to help the little Convalescings.”
“Thank you, thank you, all of you,” said Miss Hartwell, looking from one to another of the bright-faced children. “I am sure you cannot realize how much help you have given to the children here and to the Home.”
Too delighted for words, the Club members smiled back at Miss Hartwell.
She hesitated about speaking of Miss Ruth Warren, for Mr. Danforth had told her, when they first came, of the Club’s tearful tendencies. It was not until the children were going through the doorway that she said: “You are as heartily sorry as I am, I know, because Miss Warren could not come with you; but we shall look forward to other visits from your Club when the longer days of spring are here.”
The faces of the children showed their mingled grief and anticipation expressively; they were speechless, however, on the subject of Miss Ruth.