"It is no matter about advertising Prudy's purse, it was so shabby," said Aunt Madge; and on their way back to the ferry-house she bought her another.
"O, thank you, auntie, darling," said Prudy; "and thank you, too, Horace, for losing my old one; it wasn't fit to be seen. And here is a whole dollar inside! O, Aunt Madge, are you an angel?"
"Prue, you deserve your good luck; you don't come down on a fellow, hammer and tongs, because he happens to meet with an accident."
"Horace," said Dotty, meekly, "are you willing to carry my gloves?"
"Yes, to be sure; but you don't want to go home bare-handed—do you?"
"Why, I was thinking how nice 'twould be, Horace, to have you take 'em, and lose 'em, and me have a new pair. There's a hole in the thumb."
This little sally amused everybody, and Horace had the grace not to be sensitive, though the laugh was against him.
"Another queer day," said he, when they were at last at home again. "I don't know what will become of us all, if we keep on like this."
The poor boy was trying his best to brave it out; but Aunt Madge could see that his heart was sore.
"Lost every cent I'm worth," mused he, turning his coat-pocket inside out, and scowling at it. "Got to be a beggar as long as I stay in New York!"