"Didn't officer McFlaerty bring the money from your father on Monday?"
"Yessum, lady," confessed Peggy.
"Your mother told me she would put that aside for the rent—every cent of it—and that it would leave her lacking only one dollar of the rent money. Now you say she is three dollars short. Peggy, I am afraid your family has been wasting money." The Charity lady spoke severely, mindful of Mrs. Flannagan's tale. Peggy did not answer. She looked embarrassed, and twisted her toe under a loose strip of matting. Miss Margery continued, after a pause, "Mrs. Flannagan told me that you went on an excursion Thursday."
Peggy brightened and dimpled. "Yessum, lady. We told her we was a-goin'. It made her so mad. I wisht you could 'a' seen her flirt in and slam her door." Peggy's merry laugh pealed forth. "And we told her we was a-goin' to the shows, too."
"Peggy! do you think I ought to help you with the rent when you are wasting money on excursions and shows?" Miss Margery frowned on Peggy's mirth.
"Oh! why, ma'am!" Peggy seemed amazed that it was necessary to explain. "We didn't go to no shows or no 'scursions. We weren't thinkin' 'bout goin'. That was a lie. It was just to make Mrs. Flannagan mad. She put on so many airs 'bout goin' street-car-ridin' last Sunday."
"You really didn't go?" Miss Margery asked. "But Mrs. Flannagan says you passed her house—five of you—dressed for the excursion."
"Yessum, lady," Peggy agreed, dimpling. "I wisht you could 'a' seen us. It cert'ny is nice livin' when you can wear fussy-fixy velvet and silk clothes and lacey waists. John Edward and Elmore, bein' boys, couldn't get no good of them, so we give John Edward the little lace-flounced umberill to carry and Elmore a painted open-and-shut fan.—Them's the things the lady give us where mommer sews for," she explained, in answer to Miss Margery's bewildered look. "We went to see her like she asked us. 'Twas too far for the baby and Bud and Lois to walk, so we left them with Mrs. Mooney—she's the nice colored lady next door. We wisht they could 'a' gone. Mrs. Peckinbaugh gave us sandwiches and lemonade and little icin' cakes and street-car tickets to ride home on. I never did have such a good time. Oh," Peggy laughed merrily, "and when we came back by Mrs. Flannagan's, I said out loud 'twas most too cool on the boat up the river and John Edward he asked if the monkeys wa'n't cute!"
"Peggy, Peggy, my child!" said Miss Margery. "Don't you know it's sinful to tell lies?"
"Yessum—lies that hurt folks. Them's little white lies. They don't do no harm."