“But some of these older ones—turning up their noses right before our eyes at the little presents that we’d bought for them. What did they expect—diamond bracelets? Do they think we’re made out of money?”
“Well, I’m not, for one. I settled Brother Talbot’s account for the past two weeks this afternoon. That man’s talents are wasted here. He ought to be operating a fleet of pirate ships.”
“There was one thing that I haven’t had the courage to tell you about yet.” She blurted the rest in a gulped staccato: “With me it was absolutely the last straw. And I’m ashamed of myself. But my heart was so set on the singing! That’s my only excuse for being so weak.”
“Go on. I’m listening.”
“Well, you know yourself, Clem, how hard I’ve worked at drilling those eight men and boys for my Christmas carols? And how I’ve explained to them over and over again about the meanings of all those beautiful Old World customs such as the English have? And I thought they’d caught the spirit—from the very first they seemed so inspired. But tonight—just a little while ago when you were busy with the tree—they took me aside. They said they wanted to tell me something. And Clem—they—they struck!”
“Struck for what?”
“For money. Said they wouldn’t sing a note unless I paid them for their back time.”
“And what did you do?”
“I paid them,” she confessed. “Five dollars apiece. That is, all but the leader. He—he got ten.”