"Only eight bones—hard enough getting that," said Winona slowly.
"Old brute! Pouffé would have given double," said Doré indignantly. "By the way, Joe's coming at noon. I must dress the stage up for him. What flowers have you girls got?"
"Three vases," said Ida joyfully. "Couple of southern millionaires are getting quite demonstrative over little me. What's up?... Going to coax the Kitty?" she added,—meaning in Salamanderish, "Are you going to encourage him to make presents?"
"Must raise something on this confounded rent," said Doré briefly. "Then, there are other reasons."
As Ida went tripping off, her little white ankles gleaming, Winona entered with two jars of chrysanthemums which she placed, one on the table and one on the mantel, slowly, frowning. Then she turned and said, with a gesture like a blow:
"Do, I took it! I had to!"
"Took what?" Said Doré, startled.
"Joe's fifty!"
Doré sprang precipitately to the drawer and opened it.
"Winona, you—you didn't!"