“But you’re the famous one,” added Rachel, “because you knocked over Miss Ferris. She looked so funny and knowing when Prexy announced it in chapel.”
“I wish I could do something for you too,” said Helen timidly, after the rest had drifted out of the room.
“Why you have,” Betty assured her. “You helped a lot both times the doctor came, and you’ve stayed out of the room whenever I wanted to sleep, and brought up all my meals, and written home for me.”
Helen flushed. “That’s nothing. I meant something pretty like those,” and she pointed to the tableful of flowers, and then going over to it buried her face in the bowl of English violets.
Betty watched her for a moment with a vague feeling of pity. “I don’t suppose she has ten cents a month to spend on such things,” she thought, “and as for having them sent to her—” Then she said aloud, “We certainly don’t need any more of those at present. Were you going to the basket-ball game?”
“I thought I would, if you didn’t want me.”
“Not a bit, and you’re to wear some violets–a nice big bunch. Hand me the bowl, please, and I’ll tie them up.”
Helen gave a little gasp of pleasure. Then her face clouded. “But I couldn’t take your violets,” she added quickly.
Betty laughed and went on tying up the bunch, only making it bigger than she had at first intended. After Helen had gone she cried just a little. “I don’t believe she ever had any violets before,” she said to the green lizard. “Why, her eyes were like stars–she was positively pretty.”
More than one person noticed the happy little girl who sat quite alone in the running track, dividing her eager attention between the game and the violets which she wore pinned to her shabby, old-fashioned brown jacket.