With the grocery bill unpaid, her cheerful assurance sometimes provoked me. "Goodness, Jane, you haven't enough to buy even one shingle for a hospital! To hear you talk one would think the National Bank was at your command."
"But, Miss Jenkins," she said, smiling, "we are not going to use shingles for the roof, but straw; and I have something stronger than a national bank. You see, I was just born hoping. I know some of the sweetest people at home. I've written nearly one thousand letters, telling them all about my dear friends in the Quarters."
So that's where all the stamps went that she bought with the money I gave her for winter clothes!
I was taking Jane to task for this when a note arrived from Zura. I had been almost sure that my invitation would meet the same fate as the English lessons. My fears disappeared when I opened the missive. It read as follows:
Dear Miss Jenkins:
Thank you. Never did like to study in vacation, but if it is plain visiting I'll be delighted, for I'm starving. Have lived so long on rice and raw fish I feel like an Irish stew. You'll surely be shocked at what I can do to ham and eggs and hot biscuit! I'll float in about Thursday.
Hungrily yours,
Zura Wingate.
When I told my companion that Zura was coming to make us a little visit, she was preparing to start for her work. She had just tied a bright green veil over her hat. Failing in its mission as trimming, the chiffon dropped forward in reckless folds almost covering her face; it gave her a dissipated look as she hurried about, gathering up her things, eager to be gone. But I was seeking information and detained her. "Jane," I asked, "what do young girls in our country like best?"
"Boys and tolu," was the astonishing reply.