"I could tell you how to thank me," thought Mrs. Allen, though she was so kind she would not tell; "you could thank me by saying, 'Auntie, I've been a naughty boy.'"
But Horace had no idea of making such a confession as that. "The money'll come up," said he; "I'm one of the lucky kind. Let's see; wouldn't it be best to advertise?"
"Thieves won't answer advertisements," said Mrs. Allen.
"But, I tell you, auntie, I dropped that wallet. I could take my oath of it."
"Well, in such a case an advertisement is the proper thing. But, my boy, your positiveness on this subject is extraordinary. How could you drop the wallet? Do you keep it in the same pocket with your handkerchief?"
"On, no, auntie; right in here."
"And you haven't bought anything?"
"No, auntie; you wouldn't let me pay the car fare, or anything else. But still I must have taken out the wallet by mistake. You see I know nobody's picked my pockets."
"Why, Horace, you just said Granny picked 'em."
"No, Dot, I didn't! I only spoke of the queer way she had of leaning forward."