Betty finds that this last is easier said than done. She pores over the books until her head aches. Presently Bob comes in.
"Here, Betty, look sharp. I want a button sewn on my coat, and I can't find that new pair of boot-laces, and—why, just fancy sitting there reading like that! No wonder a fellow can never get anything done in this house—it's too bad!"
"I'm not reading, I'm doing Mr. Duncan's accounts," says Betty quietly. The knowledge that she is working unselfishly for the good of her family is a grand help towards keeping her temper!
Bob stares. "Rubbish!" he says.
"Come and see, Bob. I'm to do part of father's work, and Oh, I do wish you could help me. I feel so stupid to-night, and there is so much to do."
Bob melts at once. "Why, Bet, who would have thought of your doing such a thing? There, let me see—Ah, here we are! Now then——"
But, alas! just as Bob is beginning to bring his brand-new ideas of correct book-keeping to bear on the problem before them, a violent outcry arises from Pollie, who, until now, has been playing fairly quietly with Jennie in the corner.
"Harry, you bad, wicked boy!" she screams, "I'll pull all your hair out, that I will!" and she rushes at Harry like a little fury. Harry defends himself savagely, and Jennie, curled up on the floor, howls her loudest.
"Be quiet, Jennie! Pollie and Harry, if you don't leave off fighting at once, I'll box your ears all round!" cries Bob, looking up angrily from his work.
"Harry's sawn the leg off one of our dollies!" shrieks Pollie, "and he's a bad, bad, wicked boy!"