"She's always been 'ma' to me, and she always will be," declared Amarilly emphatically. "If I were to call her anything else I'd feel as if I had lost her—as if she didn't belong to me."
Ma triumphantly announced: "Forty-seven dollars and fifty-one cents."
"A fine starter," commended Amarilly, "Flamingus?"
"Forty dollars," he announced with pride.
"Milt?" Amarilly called his name in faint voice. He was the only tight- tendencied member of the household, and she feared he might decline to give. But Milt was envious and emulative.
"Forty-two dollars and sixty-nine cents," he declared in a voice rendered triumphant by the fact of his having beaten Flam.
Amarilly drew a sigh of relief.
"It's going to add up fine, now. Guess I'll take my own account next. I haven't got as much as you boys, though." "Shouldn't think you would have," said Gus sympathizingly. "You don't earn so much, and yet you pay ma as much, and don't take out nuthin' fer your noon meal. And you give Co things."
"I've earned quite a bit," replied Amarilly cheerfully. "Besides what Mr. Derry gives me, there's what I've had from odd jobs like letting the artists paint my hair, and taking care of Mrs. Wick's baby afternoons when she goes to card parties. I've got thirty dollars to put in. Gus?"
"Thirty-five dollars," he replied in a pleased tone.