“Who—Olga?”
Rose nodded.
“Yes, she’s getting more human. She’s opened her heart to Elizabeth and she can’t quite shut it against the rest of us—not quite—though she opens it only the tiniest crack.”
“But I think it’s lovely the way she is to Sadie. You know she must hate that kind of a girl as much as we do, or more—and yet she endures and helps her in every way just to give Elizabeth her chance. Miss Laura says Olga is doing lovely silver work. I’d like to see some of it, but I don’t dare ask her to let me.”
“You’d better not,” laughed Mary, “unless you are ready to be snubbed. Nobody but Elizabeth will ever be privileged to that extent.”
“And Sadie.”
“Well, possibly, but not if Olga can help it.”
Yet it was Sadie and not Elizabeth who was the first of the Camp Fire Girls to be admitted to Olga’s rooms. Sadie was wild to take up the silver work. She wanted to make herself a complete set—bracelet, ring, pin, and hatpin, after a design she had seen. Again and again she brought the matter up, for, once she got an idea in her head, she clung to it with the tenacity of a limpet to a rock.
“I think you might teach me!” she cried out impatiently one day, meeting Olga in the street. “You said you’d teach me all you know—you did, Olga Priest—and now you won’t.”
“I’ve taught you basket work and beadwork and embroidery, and the knots, and the Red-Cross things, and I’m helping you to win your honours,” Olga reminded her.