"Oh, but, Chet, I am!" once more the cloud banished the merry gleam in
Billie's eyes. "Wait till I show you."
She left her breakfast, ran upstairs, and was back in a minute with the newspaper parcel.
"Here she is," she cried, displaying the contents tragically.
Chet fingered one or two of the broken bits. Then he looked at her curiously.
"Go on, 'fess up," he commanded. "Tell yours truly all about it."
This Billie did in the fewest words possible and then sat down to the bacon and eggs that Debbie had placed temptingly on the table. And cornbread! Debbie's cornbread was a masterpiece.
When Billie had finished Chet looked grave.
"Well," he said, fingering the pieces thoughtfully, "it does seem as if the only square thing to do would be to replace it."
"Oh, I must, Chet—I must!" she interrupted earnestly.
"But how?" he asked. "A hundred dollars is a lot of money."