This corner class looked at each other and shook their heads with the rest, but they did one thing more. Sarah Potter said, "Girls, let us do something. Mrs. Jones, let us have a Sabbath-school library." "Well," said Mrs. Jones, briskly, heartily, "I'm agreed. Let us, by all means." Then they laughed a little. Mrs. Jones was a tailoress, and worked hard all day, and every day, and was devoted to her ten young ladies. But Sarah Potter had more to say: "Oh, now I mean it. It is high time something was done. Let us meet to-morrow evening at Jennie's and talk it over." Now Jennie was one of the ten, and all meetings to discuss ways and means were always held at her house. In fact it was the settled place of meeting for anything connected with this class. It had been two years since Jennie had met with them elsewhere than in her own room. Yet the class was always counted as numbering ten. One glance at her pale, bright face would have told you the story. She never left her room, nor her bed, and looked forward now to but one way of leaving that spot, which would be when they carried her out into the world once more, in her coffin! Yet Jennie was the strong bond of union in that class. "She is the class soul!" affirmed Mrs. Jones in her strong and somewhat quaint language, and the one to whom she spoke understood, and did not controvert it. Workers are very apt to move promptly in whatever line they take up. The next evening the ten met in Jennie's room. She was eager to receive them, ready to further their plans to the best of her powers. But had they any plans? "Sarah began it," they said, "she must tell us what she wants." "I want a new library; and I say, let's get one, somehow." "Very well, I'll be secretary and put that down. So much decided. 'A library somehow.'" Hannah Wood wrote the sentence in large letters, the others gleeful meanwhile. "Now, Sarah, proceed. We are all ready for the plans." "I haven't any plans; only that the thing must be done. It has been talked long enough. Yes, I have plans. Look at the Woman's Board; see how much money they are raising with ten cents a month. Why couldn't we draw up pledges for ten cents a month and get signers? There are ten of us to work; ten cents a month from everybody that we can wheedle into giving it. A regular decimal performance." "Circulating decimals at that," laughed her sister. "Think how we shall have to circulate through this town to get signers!" "Jennie, you must be our treasurer; we'll report to you once a month. Mrs. Jones, won't that be nice?" The subject was fairly opened for discussion, and vigorously was it discussed. Before the evening closed, each of the ten had a copy of the pledge written in a fair round hand. "We, the undersigned, do pledge ourselves to give ten cents each month at the call of a person holding this paper, for the benefit of the Penn Avenue Sabbath-school Library Fund, until such time as we shall ourselves erase our name from this paper."