“I see,” the little lame girl answered. “I’ll make one, too. Perhaps my daddy would use one.”
“I’ll ask Aunt Phoebe if she thinks any of them will sell. I’ll ask her tonight. Perhaps we could make the two years shorter a _little_,” sighed Jimsi.
“Maybe we will make a fortune,” laughed Joyce. “Anyhow, Jimsi dear, I’m not going to be discontented any more. I’m not going to have any more blue days. I’m going to be plucky, I am. Don’t you ever dare to mention it again.”
“All right,” Jimsi agreed, “not unless we do make the fortune,” she laughed.
The twilight deepened into dusk and the firelight lit the room. “Oh, I must run,” declared Jimsi. “Aunt Phoebe told me to come home before dark. Good-bye, dear. I’m going to make a fortune somehow—see if I don’t, and then you’ll go to the hospital and get well right off fast. Let’s pretend we’re going to make a fortune anyhow.”
_The Christmas-Tree That They Made in the Happy Shop_
THAT night after tea, Aunt Phoebe curled up on the lounge. “Jimsi,” she said, “I don’t feel like reading and I don’t know what to do. Come talk to me. What’s the matter, dear? You hardly said a thing all through supper. Don’t you feel well?”
“Oh, I’m all right, Aunt Phoebe,” Jimsi declared. “But I was thinking—I want to make some money _dreadfully_!”
“What for?” Aunt Phoebe drew Jimsi onto the couch beside her. “Is it for Christmas, Honey?” she asked.
Jimsi shook her head from side to side slowly. “Of course, I do want money for Christmas presents, but what I want it _most_ for is to give it to somebody. I want to know if you think, Aunt Phoebe, that I could earn some money some way. Do you think that I could make things to sell if I made blotter-pads and little presents and took them to a shop? Would the shopkeeper buy them to sell at Christmas, do you think?”
“I don’t believe so, Honey. You’d not make much money that way, I’m afraid.” Aunt Phoebe smiled. “It wouldn’t be a fortune, dear. Shopkeepers would not pay little girls much. The things you make are lovely, I know, but—you see, shopkeepers don’t buy that way.”
“What is it you want the money for?” asked Aunt Phoebe suddenly. “Maybe I could help.”
“I think you could, Aunt Phoebe. I want it to help somebody who is sick.”