"Then it isn't as bad as thieves; now is it? She's got the most. Prudy's older 'n I am—"
"Honesty is honesty," said Miss Polly, firmly, "in young or old. If you've lost your sister's money, you must make it up to her."
"O, must I, Miss Polly? Such a tinty-tonty mite of money as I've got,—only sixty-five cents."
"Honesty is honesty," repeated Miss Polly, "in rich or poor."
"Dear me! will my mother say so, too?"
"Your mother is on the right side, Dotty. The Bible tells us to 'deal justly.' There's nothing said there about excusing poor folks."
"O, dear! do you s'pose the Bible expects me to pay Prudy Parlin ten cents, when it just blew out of my hands, and didn't do me a speck of good?"
"Why, Dotty, you surprise me! Any one would think you were brought up a heathen! If you were a small child I could understand it."
"I knew I should have to do it," moaned Dotty.
"I advise you to lose no time about it, then; that is the cause of your blues, I guess. We can't be happy out of the line of our duty," sighed Miss Polly, who regarded herself as a pattern of cheerfulness.