“Missionary Twigs,” replied Marty. “Funny kind of a name, isn't it?”
Then presently she said, “I don't think Edith always takes the tenths out fair; for when her grandma was away lately for six days she paid Edith three cents a day for watering her plants, and of course that was eighteen cents. So the tenth was a good deal over one cent and not quite two, and yet Edith put two cents of it away.”
“I think that was more than fair.”
“Well, I suppose it was,” Marty admitted. She actually sat quite still for two or three minutes thinking, and then asked,
“Mamma—I never thought of this before but what do you suppose is the reason she saves tenths? Why doesn't she save ninths or elevenths or something else?”
“Why don't you ask her?” suggested Mrs. Ashford.
“I will,” exclaimed Marty. “I'll ask her the very next time I go over there.”
Which was in about five minutes, for Edith lived in the same block and the little girls were constantly visiting each other. This being Saturday, of course there was no school. Marty ran in at the side gate and through the kitchen with a “How do, Mary?” to the cook. Edith heard her coming and called over the stairs,
“O Marty, come right up! I was just wishing you would come over and help me.”
Marty flew up stairs and into the nursery. Edith's dolls were sitting in a row on the little bureau, some dressed and some undressed, and Edith was standing in front of them looking very much perplexed.