ter. How do they expect
parsonage people to keep up appearances when they haven't any money?"

"Oh, now, Prue, you're worse than Connie! There's no use to cry about
it. Parsonage people have to find happiness in spite of financial
misery. Money isn't the first thing with folks like us."

"No, but they have pledged it," protested Prudence, lifting her
tear-stained face. "They must know we are counting on the money. Why
don't they keep their pledges? They pay their meat bills, and grocery
bills, and house rent! Why don't they pay for their religion?"

"Now, Prue, you know how things go. Mrs. Adams is having a lot of
Christmas expense, and she thinks her four dollars a month won't really
be missed. She thinks she will make it up along in February, when
Christmas is over. But she forgets that Mrs. Barnaby with two dollars,
and Mrs. Scott with five, and Mr. Walter with seven, and Mr. Holmes
with three, and about thirty others with one dollar each, are thinking
the same thing! Each member thinks for himself, and takes no account
of the others. That's how it happens."

Prudence squirmed uncomfortably in her chair. "I wish you wouldn't
mention names, Fairy," she begged. "I do not object to lumping them in
a body and wondering about them. But I can't feel right about calling
them out by name, and criticizing them.--Besides, we do not really know
which ones they are who did not pay."

"I was just giving names for illustrative purposes," said Fairy
quickly. "Like as not, the very ones I named are the ones who did pay."

"Well, get this stuff out of the way, and let's set the table. Somehow
I can't bear to touch it any more. Poor little Connie! If she had
cried about it, I wouldn't have cared so much. But she looked
so--heartsick, didn't she, Fairy?"

Connie certainly was heartsick. More than that, she was a little
disgusted. She felt herself aroused to take action. Things had gone
too far! Go to church in her father's coat she could not! But they
hadn't the money. If Connie's father had been at home, perhaps they
might have reasoned it out together. But he had left town that
morning, and would not be home until Saturday evening,--too late to get
a coat in time for Sunday, and Prudence had said that Connie must be
coated by Sunday! She walked sturdily down the street toward the
"city,"--ironically so called. Her face was stony, her hands were
clenched. But finally she brightened. Her lagging s