The next morning Tiny took her pig-bank from the mantel and began to count her money.
“Wasn’t your mother dear to give me all this spending money, Martin?” said Tiny to Martin as he came into the room. “I do wonder how much there is; won’t you please help me count it?”
“Seven dollars and eighteen cents,” counted Martin, laying down the last coin. “My! that’s a lot of money, Tiny. What are you going to do with it?”
“Oh, Martin, don’t tell, please. Oh, it must be a secret! I do want it to be a surprise!”
“Wild horses couldn’t drag it out of me,” said Martin; “but what’s the secret?”
“Why, Saturday is your mother’s birthday, and I’m going to buy her a present.”
“Grand. What will you buy?” he asked.
“I really don’t know,” said Tiny, “but I’m going shopping this afternoon after school. I’ve had permission to get out early, because I told Miss Spectacles about the surprise.”
“Wasn’t that kind of her!” said Martin.
“People are often kinder than they seem,” said Tiny.