You understand that it is for the cause, and I
don't have to be afraid that you will hurt--hurt my feelings."
I never thought it would be possible for a girl to look at me like
Roxanne Byrd looked at me across the pile of ragged little aprons and
old dresses. I thank God for it!
"Well," I said, "for that dress I want to trade you this blue gingham
I have got on to make the aprons out of. It will make three if the
tucks are ripped out of the skirt. I want the old flowered skirt to
make some cushions for the window seat in the room I sleep in, for it
will be just the thing to go with the old mahogany of your
grandmother's. It is real old-fashioned chintz and is worth just about
ten times as much as this dress I have got on, which you know I bought
at Mr. Hadley's, with the other dozen ones that Miss Green is making
for me, at twenty-five cents a yard. Will you?"
Roxanne doesn't know about that awful spending burden I have had laid
on me and she is just as interested in helping me go and buy myself
Byrdsville clothes as a friend can be in another's pleasure--not
knowing it to be painful responsibility.
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