Winona sat up and mopped her eyes.
“This isn’t the way to follow the law of the Fire!” she reminded herself. “I can glorify work just as well home as here—better, in fact, for it’s pretty certain there’ll be more work to do!” She laughed a little.
“Coming up, Winona!” called Helen from below.
“Come on!” called back Winona.
“What’s the matter?” inquired Helen when she gained the platform. “You’ve been crying.”
“I’ve got to go home.” Winona gave the news briefly. “Mother’s sprained her ankle.”
“Oh, what a perfect shame!” said Helen.
“I know I’m taking it like a baby,” said Winona with a gulp, “instead of being noble and acting as if I liked going home. And of course I’m going. Only—only I do wish mother had picked out any time but this to sprain a perfectly good ankle!”
“Can’t she get somebody else to come take care of things?” asked Helen. “I don’t know how on earth we’ll get along without you, Win. You never say much, but somehow you’re the centre of things. We’ll miss you awfully!”
Winona blushed at the compliment, and reached down to pat Helen’s hand.