"Well, not more than a nickel at a time. Just pretend I'm a poor little girl who is hired to run errands at the Towers!"
"And if you demand part of the content of the purse?"
"Don't give it to me! But I shan't!"
Alene held her week's allowance in her hand until they entered the house; then she placed it beside her plate at dinner. She found it troublesome keeping track of it.
"I need a small purse to put it in. There's a pretty one for a quarter at Nixon's store—ah, I forgot already, I haven't enough money."
Uncle Fred offered her the use of a flat red-morocco pocketbook, but Alene said it was not convenient to carry, and besides, people would expect so much from its size! She at last decided to use a small knit bag of crimson silk with silver rings, which she kept in a box upstairs.
The next day she had a long letter to mail to her parents, and the girls accompanied her to the post-office.
On the way back they heard music.
They soon came to where the players stood, a crippled Italian and a little, dark-skinned boy, with a harp and violin.
At the conclusion of several numbers the boy went through the crowd, holding out his battered cap.