Laura gave a relieved sigh and Ivy a squeak of delight when it at last appeared, and Alene dropped it, as if it burned her fingers, into the outstretched cap.
As she turned away with cheeks that were blazing to match the hue of the bag, a tall boy standing near lifted his hat courteously, and gave way to her.
"Sir Mark!" whispered the irrepressible Ivy. "And looking as grave as a cemetery, without the ghost of a smile!"
"If he hadn't, I'd never, never have spoken to him again!" declared Alene. "Girls, I can sympathize now with those who would like to help others and can't."
"Giant Generosity with his pigmy purse," suggested Ivy.
"It's so much pleasanter as well as more blessed to give," remarked Laura.
"But, after all, money isn't everything!" said Alene. "If we are poor we can still give love and sympathy and unselfishness—"
"And advice," broke in Ivy. "And feel the richer the more we give!"
Alene said never a word to her uncle, that evening, relative to the state of her finances. She kept her collapsed purse hidden away.
"When one is poor, one is too proud to beg!" Which reflection did not keep her from being very glad when Mr. Dawson remarked: