"Dear me," scolded Beatrice; "I was just going to sweep my room. I can't put it off. Maggie has toothache rather too frequently, I think, and dishwater just ruins my hands!"
"Well, of all the howling dervishes this morning!" said Theodore in the hall. "Miss Billy, come along if you're ready, and there'll be one less."
The minister stood in the doorway. He held Miss Billy long enough to rub a finger gently over the pucker between her eyes.
"It's a brand new day, daughter," he said lovingly. "It's not fair to handicap it at the start with a frown."
"I have troubles of my own," said Theodore gloomily, as they jogged off to school together. "I've worked three Saturdays at Brown's, beside Decoration day, and though I haven't drawn a cent of the money, there is only forty cents coming to me."
Miss Billy stopped short, and her books fell to the ground.
"I'd like to know what kind of arithmetic you call that!" she said, staring.
"It's an example in profit and loss, and mainly loss," said Theodore grimly. "Don't breathe it, Sis,—but treats have done it."