“Just what we do! I heard the vicar say myself that Mrs Evans was a striving little woman who ought to be supported. If we took away our custom—”
“I mean the really poor. Mrs Evans would not shut up shop for the want of your threepenny-pieces, but the Mission at Sale is always short of funds. If you had a collecting-box, you could send in a subscription at Christmas.”
“‘The Misses Margaret, Elsa, Agatha, and Christabel Rendell—four and sixpence halfpenny,’” quoted Chrissie derisively. She marched across the room and stationed herself with her back to the fire, her thin face looking forth from a cloud of hair, an expression of dignified disdain curling her lips. “How important it sounds, to be sure! It’s all very well talking about saving up, Lilias, but it’s not so easy to do with sixpence a week, and birthdays every month, and Christmas presents, and pencils and indiarubbers, and always seeing fresh things in the shop-windows that you want to buy. It’s not that I wouldn’t like to help: if I had a sovereign, I’d give it at once, but I won’t be put down in the list for eighteenpence, and that’s all I could save, if I tried, from now to Christmas. I gave a threepenny-bit to old ‘Chairs to mend’ only last Saturday, and one the week before to a woman who was begging. I am most charitably disposed!”
“So am I,” agreed Agatha—“especially when it’s cold. Rags wouldn’t be so bad in summer, but they must be awfully draughty in winter. And I spend less in sweets than any of the others, because my teeth ache. I’ve often wished we could do something for the Mission; but I’m so poor, and I sha’n’t get any goose-money till autumn. I wish we could think of some plan by which we could make some more. Chrissie and I are always talking about it. There seems so few ways in which girls of fourteen can make money. We thought of writing and asking the editor of the employment column; but mother laughed at us, and said it was nonsense. It’s not nonsense to us!”
“If we could only have a sale of work,” said Lilias slowly. She was still staring dreamily out of the window, and hardly realised what she was saying, but the other four girls turned sharply towards each other, and a flash of delight passed from one pair of eyes to the other.
“Ah-ah!” sighed Elsie.
“Splendiferous!” cried Nan.
“How simp-lay love-lay!” drawled Christabel, with the languid elegance of manner for which she was distinguished; and Agatha beamed broadly all over her good-humoured face, oblivious of the sufferings of the poor in the prospect of her own amusement.
“What fun we should have! I’d bake the cakes and manage the refreshment stall! Tea and coffee, threepence a cup; lemonade, fourpence; fruit salad, sixpence a plate!”
“I’d sell toffee in tins, and have a pin-cushion table, and make every single soul I know give me a contribution.”