"Right here is where the holiday charity work of the Flamingo Camp Fire begins," she told herself. Then aloud she added:
"I haven't had much to eat since morning, couldn't eat much this noon in my condition of mind, and I'm hungry; what have you in the house for a Sunday evening lunch, Nell?"
"Not much, Helen," was the reply. "Only a half a loaf of rye bread and some corn molasses. The children used to be very fond of that, but they've had it so often since the strike began, that they're almost sick of it."
"Is there any store open near here where I can go and buy something?"
"There's a bakery and delicatessen over on the street where the car line runs. It's probably open now."
"Will I find a drug store over there, too? I want to use the telephone."
"Yes, you'll find a drug store on that street, a block north."
"I'll go at once and you set the table while I'm gone. We'll have a feast that will delight the hearts and stomachs of these little ones."
"God bless you, Helen," were the last words that fell on her ears as she went out.
"I must call up Marion and tell her where I am," she mused as she hastened toward the drug store. "I would have told her where I was going before I left, but I was afraid she wouldn't let me go. Besides, I don't feel like telling her everything yet."