“Well, cheer up!” said her mother. “We will find some way out of the difficulty. You try to think of some plan to get twelve cents, and so will I. Between us we ought to devise something.”
Marty brightened up instantly and looked eagerly at her mother, sure that relief was coming immediately. “What is your plan, mamma?” she asked.
“Oh! I didn't say I had one yet,” said Mrs. Ashford, laughing. “You must give me time to think; and you must think yourself.”
That was all she would say then, and Marty spent a very restless afternoon and evening trying to think of some way to earn or save that money, but could think of nothing that would bring it in time for Friday. At bedtime her mother inquired, “Have you got a plan yet?”
“No, indeed. I can't think of a thing,” answered Marty, nearly as doleful as ever.
“How do you like this plan?” said Mrs. Ashford. “I have some rags up in the storeroom that I want picked over, the white separated from the colored, and if you will do it to-morrow afternoon, I will give you fifteen cents.”
“Oh, I'll do it! I'll do it!” cried Marty in delight, kissing her mother. “You're the best mamma that ever was!”
“It is not pleasant work, and will probably take all your playtime,” cautioned her mother.
“Oh! I don't mind that,” said Marty.
So, although the next afternoon was remarkably pleasant, and it would have been delightful to be playing with her sled in the snow-heaped little park near by, where the other girls were, she very cheerfully spent it in the dull storeroom with an old calico wrapper over her dress, sorting rags. There were a good many to do—though she candidly said she didn't think there was more than fifteen cents' worth—and she got pretty tired. Katie offered to help, but Marty heroically refused, and earned her money fairly.