Somebody found the necessary newspaper, and Ruth hastily constructed a pattern of the article she had tried to describe, while Elaine listened, her color rising steadily. The girls had misunderstood her, and their efforts to show her how she could help without being at any expense added to her sense of humiliation. What she had really meant to imply was that a girl situated as she was, should be exempt from any obligations to help other people. Elaine looked upon herself as an object of sympathy. It was bad enough to face the prospect that one’s own stocking would be empty at Christmas time--relatively empty, at least--but to be asked to help fill other stockings was adding insult to injury. Yet this, hard as it was, did not cut as deeply as the suggestions the girls were now making, with the best intentions in the world. Poverty, from Elaine’s standpoint, was equally a misfortune and a disgrace. She had confessed defiantly to being poor, without dreaming that her callers would take her at her word, and proceed on the assumption that in her case economy was really a matter of importance. When Priscilla started in with a description of a hat-pin holder, the materials of which, she assured Elaine, impressively, wouldn’t cost more than ten cents at the outside, Elaine felt that she had reached the limit of endurance. "There!" she exclaimed as if the thought had just occurred to her. "I believe I have a little thing ready that I could contribute." She went to her room, a sense of triumph effacing the intolerable humiliation of the past few minutes. The sacrifice she was about to make was insignificant compared with her opportunity to silence her advisers, and to prove that in spite of the reverses with which the family had met, she could be as generous as anybody. The article for which Elaine was looking was put away carefully, wrapped in tissue paper. She looked at it with brightening eyes, and returned to her visitors almost jauntily. "It’s a little thing I made in the summer," she observed casually. "The Irish crochet is awfully popular, you know, and I think the pattern’s rather pretty." With a carelessness almost too pronounced, she dropped her offering on Peggy’s knee. "If that will do you any good, you’re quite welcome to it." Peggy was staring with all her eyes. "Why, Elaine! Why, girls! It’s a collar. Real Irish crochet! Isn’t it gorgeous!" Such as it was, Elaine’s triumph was complete. The girls broke into exclamations of admiration, exchanging bewildered glances as they did so. "She made it herself. Isn’t she a wonder? There won’t be anything at the Bazar to compare with it." "That ought to bring a splendid price. Just think of the dolls we can buy with all that money." "It’s _gorgeous_," repeated Peggy. She looked from the dainty article in her hand toward the giver. "Really, Elaine," she hesitated, "it’s too nice. It’s more than you ought to give."