"Horace," said Aunt Madge, "I am very suspicious that you lost your purse in one of those cars, on the Brooklyn side."
"But, auntie, I tell you there couldn't anybody get at my pockets without my knowing it!"
"Just as Prudy told you you would, you lost it in that car," echoed Dotty. "Don't you remember what you said, Prudy?"
"That's right; hit him again," growled Horace.
"Now, Dotty," said Prudy, suppressing a great sob in her effort to "behave like a lady," "what's the use? Don't you suppose Horace feels bad enough without being scolded at?"
"Auntie don't scold, nor Prudy don't, 'cause he didn't mean to lose it," said Fly, frowning at Dotty, and caressing Horace, with her hands full of evergreens.
"Besides, he has lost more than I have," continued Prudy.
"Well, a trifle more! Fifty times as much, say. I shouldn't care a fig,—speaking figuratively,—only it was all I had to get home with."
"Don't fret about that," said Aunt Madge; "I'll see that you go home with as full a purse as you brought to my house."
"O, auntie, how can I thank you? But you know father never would allow that!"