came to. "Can't we do something? We _must_ do something!"

"Of course we can," laughed Genevieve, promptly; "but--what about?"

Cordelia gave a faint smile.

"Yes, I know; I wasn't very explicit," she sighed. "But, listen. You
know--or maybe you didn't know--but the Missionary Society have been
packing a barrel to go West. They're at the church this afternoon,
packing it; but they didn't have half enough, and they sent down to the
parsonage to know if Aunt Mary hadn't something more--some old clothes
of the children's, or old magazines, or anything. Auntie's sick to-day
with an awful cold, but she went up attic and hunted up all she could;
then after I got home from school she asked me to take them down to the
church."

"Yes, go on," prompted Genevieve, as Cordelia paused for breath.

"Well, I took them; and, Genevieve, what do you think?"--Cordelia's
voice was tragic--"that missionary barrel was going to the Rev. Luke
Jones, Bolo, Texas. _Our_ Mr. Jones,--Quentina!"

"Cordelia! Really?"

"Yes. You know they told us they got them from our church sometimes.
And, Genevieve, it was awful--that barrel! It looked just like the other
one, the one they got while we were there that day--old shoes and
dolls, and _homely_ things!"

"Oh, Cordelia! What did you do?"

Cordelia drew in her breath with a little gasp.

"I don't know. I talked. I said things--awful things. I know they were
awful things from the looks of some of their faces. And at the last Mrs.
Johnson--you _know_ how she can be sometimes!--she--she just snapped
out: 'Very well, Miss Cordelia, if you are not satisfied with what we
have been able to procure after weeks of hard work, suppose you go out
yourself and solicit gifts for your friends!' And, Genevieve, I said I
would. And I turned 'round and marched out. And now--now--what _shall_
we do?"

Genevieve sprang to her feet.

"Do? Why, we'll do it, of course," she cried.

"But, Genevieve, I'm so scared. What if folks won't give--anything?
Those women worked weeks--they said they did--for what they've got!"

"But folks _will_ give," declared Genevieve, with prompt confidence.
"Now wait. I'll have to tell Aunt Julia where I'm going, then I'll be
back ready to start," she finished, as she whisked out of the room.

"Oh, Genevieve, you're always so comfortingly _sure_," sighed Cordelia
to the door through which her friend had just sped.

During the next two hours Sunbridge, as represented by many of its