“Besides, one I’ve got isn’t paid for—Peg Bowen’s,” she lamented, “and I don’t suppose it ever will be, for I’ll never dare to ask her for it.”
“I wouldn’t put it on at all,” said Felicity.
“Oh, I don’t dare not to. She’d be sure to find out I didn’t and then she’d be very angry. I wish I could get just one more name and then I’d be contented. But I don’t know of a single person who hasn’t been asked already.”
“Except Mr. Campbell,” said Dan.
“Oh, of course nobody would ask Mr. Campbell. We all know it would be of no use. He doesn’t believe in missions at all—in fact, he says he detests the very mention of missions—and he never gives one cent to them.”
“All the same, I think he ought to be asked, so that he wouldn’t have the excuse that nobody DID ask him,” declared Dan.
“Do you really think so, Dan?” asked Cecily earnestly.
“Sure,” said Dan, solemnly. Dan liked to tease even Cecily a wee bit now and then.
Cecily relapsed into anxious thought, and care sat visibly on her brow for the rest of the day. Next morning she came to me and said:
“Bev, would you like to go for a walk with me this afternoon?”