“But you are very patient and persevering, and—I don’t know why, but I have a feeling that you could do more for this one girl than any one else here could. She is coming to take the only vacant place in our Camp Fire. Shall I tell you about her, Olga?”
“If you like.” The girl’s tone was politely indifferent.
With a little sigh Miss Grandis went on, “Her name is Elizabeth Page. She is about a year younger than you, and she has had a very hard life.”
Olga’s lips tightened and a shadow swept across her dark eyes.
Miss Grandis continued, “You have superb health—this girl has perhaps never been really well for a single day. You have a brain and hands that enable you to accomplish almost what you will. Poor Elizabeth can do so few things well that she has no confidence in herself: yet I believe she might do many things if only she could be made to believe in herself a little. She needs—O, everything that the Camp Fire can do for a girl. Olga, won’t you help us to help her?”
“How can I?” There was no trace of sympathy in the cold voice, and suddenly the eager hopefulness faded out of Miss Grandis’ face.
“How can you indeed, if you do not care. I am afraid I made a mistake in coming to you, after all,” she said sadly. “I’m sorry, Olga—sorry even more on your account than on Elizabeth’s.”
With that she rose and went away, and Olga looked after her thoughtfully for a moment before she took up her work again.
A little later Myra Karr stood looking down at her with a curious expression in her wide blue eyes.
“I’m—I’m going to walk to Kent’s Corners,” she announced, with a little nervous catch in her voice.