"'Aug. 25. Mister Cotter. 25 cents. Pade.' He's a brakeman friend of the
Boarder. He wore it to a maskyrade.
"'Aug. 27. Poleece. 35 cents. Pade.'"
"Police!" ejaculated John faintly.
"Some one swiped it offen our clo'es-line, and when the police ketched the thief, we was subpenyed, or ma was. She got thirty-five cents, and all on us 'cept Iry went to hear her."
"'Aug, 29. Bishop Thurber. 5 dollers. Pade.'"
"Bishop Thurber!" the name was repeated with the force of an expletive.
"Seems to mind that more'n he did the police," thought Amarilly.
"It's quite a story," she explained, "and though it was orful at the beginnin' it come out all right, jest as the plays all do. I jest thought, I shouldn't hev put that down in the account, cause we give back the five, so we didn't make nuthin' in a way. We wuz dead broke. I suppose," she ruminated, "you don't know jest how orful it is to be that."
"I don't, Amarilly, from my own experience," replied John sympathetically, "but I can imagine how terrible it must be, and I am very sorry—"
"Well, as long as it come out all right, it don't make no difference. We'd got to pay our rent or else git put out, and I was up a stump till the Boarder said to tackle a pawnshop. I didn't hev nuthin' but the surplus to pawn, and I hated to pawn it on your account."