“Oh, that’s the trouble, is it?”
“Yes’m.”
“Well, it’s a shame,” she exclaimed, angrily. “Why will he beat you?”
“’Cause I lost ten cents.”
“Did he send you to buy something with it?”
“Yes’m.”
“And you lost it on the way?”
“Yes’m.”
“Oh, well, I guess we can fix that,” she said in her kindly way, as she took a dime from her purse and handed it to the boy. “Now he won’t beat you, will he?”
“No’m.”