“There are two dollars and a quarter in nickels,” she finally decided. “I think the pennies add up to a dollar and three cents.” “That makes thirteen dollars!” exclaimed Vevi. “The Brownies are rich!” “Thirteen dollars and sixty-eight cents,” corrected Connie who was better at arithmetic than her little friend. Miss Gordon told the children she would take charge of the money for them. Sunny Davidson asked what the organization would do with the fund. “Will we have a nice party?” she questioned. “We could,” Miss Gordon agreed. “I wonder though, if the girls wouldn’t prefer to do something really worthwhile. Miss Mohr has a suggestion.” The librarian’s proposal was that the Brownie Scout troop use some of its money to send a CARE package of children’s books to a foreign country. “Any country?” asked Vevi. “Yes, the girls may make their choice.” “Italy,” cried Jane before any of the other Brownies could speak. She named that particular country just to tease Vevi. “No, Holland!” insisted Vevi. “That’s where I want the package to go!” Usually, the other Brownies had ideas that were very different from hers. This time, however, everyone except Jane agreed with her. Because of Hanny, all the troop members wanted the book package to be sent to Holland. “I’ll vote for Holland too,” declared Jane, changing her vote. “That matter is settled then,” Miss Mohr said, well pleased by the decision. “I’ll take care of the matter.” The Brownies had worked hard at their stand and now were tired and ready to go home. Everyone said the flower show had been a great success. Hundreds of persons had visited the estate, admiring the beautiful plantings. Mr. Piff and the Mattox couple were the only ones who did not seem pleased. “This flower show was a mistake,” the promoter complained. “The affair has attracted so many persons that it may hurt attendance at the big festival later this week.” “The festival will be an anti-climax,” agreed Mr. Mattox. “I wish you hadn’t talked me into contributing so much money.” “You made us believe that our tulip would win the prize and that we would make a great deal from the sale of bulbs,” Mrs. Mattox accused the promoter. “Now Peter Van Der Lann wins the blue ribbon and he had nothing to do with the festival! It is unfair!” “Was it my fault the judges didn’t choose your tulip?” Mr. Piff growled. “Let me tell you I’ve had my troubles! Everyone is complaining--jumping on me--saying I haven’t kept my promises.” “Maybe you’d like to get out of the whole mess?” suggested Mr. Mattox. “I sure would! I’m fed up with Rosedale and this stupid festival.” “You’re fed up! You’re starting to make excuses because you are afraid the thing will be a flop. Well, let me tell you this, Mr. Piff. You promised that if we put in five thousand dollars, we’d get it back in bulb sales. You’d better make good!” “Oh, you make me tired,” Mr. Piff retorted.