“Whatever will we do with those things?” sighed Hinpoha in despair.
“Can’t you give them to somebody?” suggested Migwan. “That lamp and that vase are perfect beauties. I’d covet them myself if I didn’t have more now than I know what to do with.”
“The very thing!” said Hinpoha. “Here we promised not a half hour ago to ‘Give Service’ all the time, and yet we didn’t think of sharing our possessions. To whom shall we give them?”
“To Sally Prindle,” said Agony and Oh-Pshaw in one breath.
“Who’s Sally Prindle?” asked Hinpoha and I, also in chorus.
“She lives down at the other end of the hall in Purgatory,” said Agony, “in that tiny little box of a room at the head of the stairs. She’s working her way through college and waits on table for her board and does some of the upstairs work for her room, and she’s awfully poor. She hasn’t a thing in her room but the bare furniture—not a rug or a picture. She’d probably be crazy to get them.”
“Let’s give them to her right away,” said Hinpoha, beginning to gather things up in her arms. Hinpoha is just like a whirlwind when she gets enthusiastic about anything.
“But how shall we give them to her?” I asked. “We don’t know her, and she might feel offended if she thought we had noticed how bare her room was and pitied her. How shall we manage it, Migwan?”
“Don’t act as if you pitied her at all,” replied Migwan. “Simply knock at her door and tell her you’ve got your room all furnished and there are some things left over and you’re going up and down the corridor trying to find out if anybody has room to take care of them for you until the end of the year. Of course she has room to take them, so it will be very simple.”
“Oh, Migwan, what would we do without you?” cried Hinpoha, and nearly dropped the Rookwood bowl trying to hug her with her arms full. “You always know the right thing to do and say.”