“That’s my offer—you can take it or leave it,” Olga said. “I must go on now. Think it over and tell me Saturday what you decide.”
“O—if I must, I must, I s’pose,” Sadie yielded ungraciously. “How long will it take me to make mother’s?”
“Depends on how quickly you learn.”
“O, I’ll learn quick enough!” Sadie tossed her head as one conscious of her powers. “When can I begin?”
“Monday. Can you come right after school?”
“Uh, huh,” and with a brief good-bye Sadie was gone.
Olga had no easy task with her over the making of her mother’s gift. It was to be a brass stamp box, and her only thought was to get it out of the way so that she could begin on her own jewelry; but Olga was firm.
“If you don’t make a good job of this your lessons will end right here,” she declared, and Sadie had learned that when Olga spoke in that tone, she must be obeyed. She gloomed and pouted, but seeing no other way to get what she wanted she set to work in earnest. And as the work grew under her hands, her interest in it grew. When, finally, the box was done, it was really a creditable bit of work for the first attempt of a girl barely fourteen, and Sadie was inordinately proud of it.
It was December now and Christmas was the absorbing interest of the Camp Fire Girls. They were to have a tree in the Camp Fire room, but Laura told them to make their gifts very simple and inexpensive.
“We must not spoil the Great Day by giving what we cannot afford,” she said. “The loving thought is the heart of Christmas giving—not the money value. I’ll get our tree, but you can help me string popcorn and cranberries to trim it, and put up the greenery.”