, and rummage sales had not yet
found their way into East Greenfield; so it was not very wonderful that
by noon Gerry really had enough things promised her to furnish the barn
with a comfort that would seem luxury to the young Jimsons and their
mother.

It must be confessed that the finishing touch for Gerry was given when
she leaned on the window-sill to tell the story to little lame Ruthie
West, not because she expected anything there, but because she was so
happy that she could not help stopping to share it with some one. Ruthie
laughed over the yellow soap feelingly offered by Mr. Evans, and cried
over the cook-stove, and when it was all told exclaimed earnestly:--

"Oh, Gerry, I must do something; I just must! I haven't any things, even
if you needed them; but you come in, please, and get my Japanese box out
of the bureau drawer. It's got my gold piece in it. It's truly mine,
Gerry; Mr. Graves gave it to me last Christmas, and I haven't been able
to think of anything nice enough to do with it. Now I know. You take it,
Gerry, and buy some pretty stuff to make some frilly things, and some
curtains, maybe--if there's enough. They'll love to have pretty things;
I know they will. And, Gerry, maybe it will help them to be good, those
little Jimson-weeds," quoting Aunt Serinda softly.

Tears rolled down Gerry's cheeks onto the shining piece of gold in
Ruthie's hand.

"You--darling!" she whispered, and could not say anything more.

Mother Brace's potatoes grew quite cold while she listened to Gerry's
excited reports, and grew as much excited herself in the hearing.

"I'll begin to sweep the barn this afternoon," she declared, hustling
the dishes off the table. "I don't want that poor Jimson soul to wait a
minute longer than she must to have it all."

The dust was flying in clouds from the open barndoors when the "poor
Jimson soul" herself came dragging up the path with the baby in her arms
and a dingy black dress, manifestly borrowed, trailing forlornly behind
her.

"Oh, my!" thought Gerry as she watched her coming. "I never remembered
the clothes. They'll have to have them. I wonder--

"Come right in, Mrs. Jimson," she interrupted herself; "come and sit
down here. You must be tired with such a long walk."

"I ain't no more tired than I always am," Mrs. Jimson answered drearily,
dropping into the rocker Gerry pushed forward. "I ain't never been
rested, and I don't never expect to be. I've come to see if you've g