ere."
"We never had enough money for candles," replied Joyce.
"Yes, I know. But still I've always wanted to do it. Suppose we buy
some and try it soon,--say to-morrow?" Joyce turned to her companion
with an astonished stare.
"Why, Cynthia Sprague! You _know_ it's near the end of the month, and
I'm down to fifteen cents again, and I guess you aren't much better off!
What nonsense!"
"I have two dollars and a half. I've been saving it up ever so long--not
for that specially--but I'm perfectly willing to use it for that."
"Well, you are the queerest one!" exclaimed Joyce. "Who would have
thought you'd care so much about it! Of course, I'm willing to go in for
it, but I can't give my share till after the first of the month. Why do
you want to do it so soon?"
"Oh, I don't know--just because I _do_!" replied Cynthia, a little
confused in manner. "Come! Let's buy the candles right off. And suppose
we do a little dusting and cleaning up in the morning, and fix the
candles in the candelabrum, and in the afternoon light them up and have
the fun of watching them?" Joyce agreed to this heartily, and they
turned into a store to purchase the candles. Much to Joyce's amazement,
Cynthia insisted on investing in the best _wax_ ones she could obtain,
though they cost nearly five cents apiece.
"Tallow ones will do!" whispered Joyce, aghast at such extravagance. But
Cynthia shook her head, and came away with more than fifty.
"I wanted them _good_!" she said, and Joyce could not budge her from
this position. Then, to change the subject, which was plainly becoming
embarrassing to her, Cynthia abruptly remarked:
"Don't forget, Joyce, that you are coming over to my house to dinner,
and this evening we'll do our studying, so that to-morrow we can have
the whole day free. And bring your music over, too. Perhaps we'll have
time to practise that duet afterward."
"I will," agreed Joyce, and she turned in at her own gate.
Joyce came over that evening, bringing her books and music. As Mr. and
Mrs. Sprague were occupying the sitting-room, the two girls decided to
work in the dining-room, and accordingly spread out their books and
papers all over the big round table. Cynthia settled down methodically
and studiously, as was her wont. But Joyce happened to be in one of her
"fly-away humors" (so Cynthia always called them), when she found it
quite impossible to concentrate her thoughts or give her serious
attention to anything. Thes
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