“Why! Tom!”
“I’ll tell you all about it when I get a chance.” He was pressing the bills into her surprised hand.
“I just couldn’t keep it. I—” he faltered so miserably that Gloria almost laughed at his discomfiture.
“Is it haunted, Tom?” she teased. “Or is it poisoned?”
“Oh, I got into a row—”
Gloria rippled a laugh that frightened off a little pee-wee. “What ever do you mean, Tom? You got into a—row!”
“Say, Glo,” the boy interrupted, finding her sweater pocket and hurriedly crushing into it the two bills, a two and a one, all folded up into a tiny square. “Listen. Old Nancy Trivett says she lost three dollars in our store this morning, and Sam tipped me off not to give this to Abe Nash—”
“Oh, I see,” said Gloria mercifully. “They are just mean enough to think a thing like that.” She drew her mouth into a line that bulged at the corners. “I don’t know which is the meanest, Abe or Nancy, but they’re a pretty mean pair. I just wonder, Tom, why such folks always love to suspect us. They can’t find enough of fault without making it up.” Indignation was sending the girl’s voice first up and then down until she seemed to be taking a breathing exercise. “I’d just like to fight it out with them for once. Why don’t you do it, Tom?” she asked, excitedly.
“On account of mother. She just hates rows and can’t even stand it when I scrap with the fellows,” said Tom. “But gosh! I was thunderstruck!”
“She didn’t say you took her mouldy old greenbacks!” exclaimed Gloria. “I’ll bet they were mouldy too, just from her squeezing them, hating to part with the precious horde!”