To-day the thought of allying themselves with thousands of other girls and women in the effort to do good, set every pulse to new beating, that had ever throbbed with one spark of love for the Master; and there succeeded one memorable quilting where Dame Gossip was almost entirely excluded. As they scattered for home, after Betty's nice supper, Sara found herself, as usual, at Miss Prue's side; and, looking up into her friend's face, said, with a mischievous smile,—
"So that's why you wanted me to go to the quilting, is it? If you had told me"—
"You wouldn't have gone!" interrupted her friend promptly. "I know you so well, Sara! There's a—a—well, an aloofness about you that I feel it my duty to struggle with," giving the girl a merry glance; "some people might call it pride,—I don't."
Sara looked troubled.
"I know you think so, Miss Prue, but I'm sure I don't feel so. What, indeed, have I to be proud of?" sadly. "Only," with more spirit, "I can't tell all I know to every one, and it bores me dreadfully to have them tell me all they know!"
Miss Plunkett laughed with enjoyment. She liked to rouse Sara occasionally; and listened with dancing eyes as the latter continued,—
"Now, yesterday, Zeba and Dolly came to call (by the way, I was reading your Ruskin's 'Stones of Venice' so think what it was to be interrupted!), and what do you suppose they talked about every minute? Why, it seems Mrs. Felcher has a brother living in Boston, who has invited her to visit him, and sent her a box of pretty things; they named over every one, even to a 'frame-bunnit covered with sating, and with a bunch of blows on top!'"
Miss Prue had grown grave.
"Yet poor Zeba could teach us both a grand lesson in cheerful patience," she said gently.
Sara crimsoned, but did not answer for a moment. They had reached Miss Prue's gate now, and the latter turned into it. "Wait!" the girl then said, almost passionately. "I am not worthy to be a King's daughter! Leave me out of your ten; tell them I can't live up to the simple requirements; I"—