"Well, what did you do with the money?" Mr. Cane inquired. "You must have taken in some money."
"We haven't done an'thing with it—yet."
"What are you going to do with it?" asked the merciless inquisitor.
"Why,—why, we were thinking about sending it to the President, so he could put it back in the treasury."
"Conscience money, eh?" demanded Mr. Cane. "Well, it's a great relief to discover that you have a conscience. But why don't you satisfy your conscience by devoting it to the purpose for which you raised it?"
Sube looked up at his father with an expression of ineffable relief. "Could we do that?" he asked breathlessly.
"Why not?" replied Mr. Cane. "By the way, how much was there?"
"Twenty dollars and seventeen cents."
Mr. Cane uttered a low, long whistle. "And the auction was only half over when it was raided!" he murmured. "Mother, you ought to let this boy handle the next charity bazaar for the church."