It was indirectly through Horace Hitchcock that the Friendly Terrace girls became interested in the Rummage Sale. For at the Field Day exercises Horace and Priscilla had happened to occupy seats in the Grand Stand next to Mrs. Sidney Vanderpool, and Horace, who seemed a prime favorite with that influential lady, had introduced Priscilla. Mrs. Vanderpool was in charge of a rummage sale to be held for the benefit of a local charity, and recognizing Priscilla's efficiency at a glance, she had promptly enlisted her under her banner. Since whatever concerned one of the Friendly Terrace quartette concerned all, Mrs. Vanderpool in securing Priscilla's coöperation had gained four new assistants.
It was Peggy, strange to say, whose enthusiasm it was hardest to kindle. "Somehow I never thought much of rummage sales," she owned. "Perhaps it is because rummage always reminds me of rubbish."
"But that's not fair, Peggy," Priscilla remonstrated. "Every family has a lot of things packed away that would be a blessing to people a little poorer."
Peggy reflected. "I can't think of anything we could spare that would be much of a blessing to any one."
"You haven't looked your things over with that thought in mind. Take Mrs. Vanderpool, for instance. Why, she'd discard a piece of furniture we would be proud to put in the parlor. A chair or sofa we'd think too shabby to have around would seem magnificent to your friends, the Bonds."
"I suppose there's something in that," owned Peggy.
"Of course there is. Thanks to the rummage sales, people get rid of a lot of stuff that's no further good to them; and other people get a great many things that they can use, and pay almost nothing for them."
"If they pay so little, why does Mrs. Vanderpool expect to make such a lot of money!" demanded Peggy.
"Look at the five-and-ten cent stores. Little profits count up, if you make sales enough. And in a rummage sale the expenses are so small that almost everything is profit."
Peggy began to think that her prejudice had been unreasonable, and she hunted the house over to find something worth contributing. But her search was far from satisfactory to herself. Mrs. Raymond was not one of the house-keepers who make a practice of hoarding useless articles. If a piece of furniture broke down, she had it mended if it were worth repairing; if not, she either gave it to some poor family who could make use of it, or else had it carted away by the rubbish collector. When Peggy's exhaustive search ended, she had succeeded in collecting for the sale only a few pieces of crockery and a carpet-sweeper which had outlived its halcyon days, though still capable of picking threads off the carpet.