o see if this was a mere whim
of the moment, or if you really were actuated by patriotic motives. You
have taught me that girls can feel for their country as well as grown
people. How much are those handkerchiefs?"

"A dollar a dozen, sir."

"H'm'm!" mused the old gentleman drawing forth a well filled pocketbook.
"Too cheap by far. Give me a couple of dozen."

Jeanne obeyed with alacrity and carefully wrapped the handkerchiefs
in tissue paper. "I can't change this bill, sir," she said as the old
gentleman gave her a twenty dollar note.

"I don't want you to, my little girl," returned he kindly. "Take it for
the cause."

"Oh," cried Jeanne her eyes filling with glad tears. "How good you are!
How good you are!"

"Nonsense! It's a pity if I cannot give a little money when you girls have
given so much time and work. Good-day, my little patriots. Success to you
in your undertaking. You may see me again."

"Good-day, sir," cried the girls together. "And thank you ever so much."

"Oh, girls," gasped Jeanne delightedly. "Isn't it fine? Twenty dollars! I
didn't think we'd make more than that altogether."

"Here come more customers, Jeanne," cried Nellie excitedly. "Oh, but I
believe that we are going to have luck!"

It was but the beginning. There was little leisure for the girls after
that. Their evident zeal and earnestness impressed the passers-by whose
hearts were already aglow with sympathy for the soldiers, and bills and
shinplasters poured in upon the little merchants until at dusk not an
article remained upon the steps. Then, tired but happy, they assembled
in Mrs. Vance's parlor to count the proceeds.

"Two hundred dollars!" exclaimed Mr. Vance as the girls announced the
result in excited tones. "Why, girls, this is wonderful! The government
would better turn over its finances into your hands."

"You blessed dears," cried Mrs. Vance, "it will do so much good! You
don't know how much that will buy, but you shall go with the committee
and see for yourselves."

"We have done well," said Jeanne in congratulatory tones.

"I don't believe that grown people could do any better," and Nellie Drew
gave her head a proud toss.

"There's a little lame boy asking to see Miss Jeanne, ma'am," announced
a servant entering at this moment. "Shall I show him up?"

"Yes, Susan. Who is it, Jeanne?"

"It must be Eddie Farrell. He lives down on Fourth Avenue. His mother
washes for Nellie's mother, and they are awfully poor