Having decided she could not have what she so ardently desired, Marty should have kept out of the way of temptation, but every day she went to look at the chairs, and seeing them, she continued to want one. By Thursday they were all gone but two, and Hattie triumphantly announced that at last her mamma had given her money to buy one. Then Marty felt that she _must_ have the other. When she had her wraps on that afternoon ready to go out to play, she went to the missionary box, and, with hands trembling in her excitement, took out the solitary penny. Then without stopping to think she ran down stairs. Just as she was opening the street-door she repented, and after meditating a while in the vestibule, standing first on one foot and then on the other, she slowly retraced her steps and put the penny back. "Now it's safe," she said. "I'll just dash out without it, and of course when I haven't got it, I can't spend it." She dashed about half way, when all at once the vision of the lovely chair rose up before her, and the desire to possess it was greater than ever. She stopped again to think, and the result was, she returned and got the penny--it was not quite so hard to take it out the second time as it was the first--and started for the street once more. Perhaps she might have repented and gone back again, had not her mother, who was entertaining some ladies in the parlor, called to her, "Marty, don't race up and down stairs so," and then Marty went out with the penny in her hand. CHAPTER VI. THE EMPTY BOX. So the chair was bought and Marty tried to think she was perfectly satisfied, but it was strange how little she cared for it after all. She showed her purchase to her mother, who said it was quite pretty, but not very substantial; that she feared it would not last long. Marty put it in her dolls' house and played with it, trying hard to enjoy it, but her conscience was so ill at ease that she soon began to hate the sight of the chair, and by Friday evening she had pushed it away back on the shelf behind everything. The sight of the red box, too, was more than she could stand, it seemed to look so reproachfully at her; even after she had laid one of her white aprons over it she disliked to open the drawer. There was a special meeting of the band that Saturday, as they were getting ready for their anniversary. No contributions were expected, so that it did not matter about Marty having no money; but she was feeling so low-spirited and ashamed that she simply could not go among the others nor take part in missionary exercises. "Are you going for Edith this afternoon or is she coming for you?" inquired Mrs. Ashford. "I'm not going to the meeting," replied Marty in a low voice. "I told Edith I wasn't going." "Not going!" exclaimed Mrs. Ashford in surprise. "Why, you are not tired of it already, are you?" "No, ma'am," Marty answered, "but I don't want to go to-day."