“I’ll remind you when you sulk and glower,” Sadie retorted in impish glee. “Maybe we can work it that way.”
“All right, it’s a bargain then?” Olga held out her hand and Sadie’s thin nervous fingers clasped it promptly. The child’s cheeks were flushed and her small black eyes were shining.
“I can learn fast if I want to,” she boasted. “I’m going to make me a silver bracelet like Miss Laura’s and a pin; and I’ll have lovely embroidery on my Camp Fire dress. I love pretty things like those—don’t you?”
Olga shook her head. “No, I don’t care for them,” she returned; but as she spoke there flashed into her mind some words Mrs. Royall had spoken at one of the Council meetings—“Seek beauty in everything—appreciate it, create it, for yourself and for others.” Sadie was seeking beauty, even though for her it meant as yet merely personal adornment, and she—Olga—deep down in her heart had been cherishing a scorn for all such beauty. She put the thought aside for future consideration as she said, “Then, Sadie, you and Elizabeth will be at Miss Laura’s next Saturday?”
“I rather guess we will!” Sadie answered emphatically.
“You don’t have to ask your mother about it?”
Sadie gave a scornful little flirt. “Mother! She always does what I want. We’ll be there.” And then, with a burst of generosity, she added, “You can see Elizabeth, for a minute, if you want to—now.”
But again Olga shook her head. “Tell her I’ll stop for her and you Saturday,” she said. “Good-bye, Sadie.”
“Good-bye,” Sadie echoed, turning towards her own door; but the next minute she was clutching eagerly at Olga’s sleeve. “Say—tell Miss Laura to be sure and have my silver ring ready for me as soon’s I join,” she cried. “You won’t forget, Olga?”
“I won’t forget,” Olga assured her.