"O, I don't know. Yes, I think I did. Was he the one? Did he find the money?"
"Did you walk up Orange Street?" continued the old woman. "No, I mean Cranberry Street?"
"O, dear, I don't know! Prudy, run, call Aunt Madge. Please tell me, ma'am, have you got it with you? Is my name on the inside?"
"Wait till the little girl calls your aunt. Perhaps she'd be willing to let me tell the story in my own way. I'd ruther deal with grown folks," said the provoking old lady.
Horace's eyes flashed, but he contrived to keep his temper.
"It is my purse, ma'am, and my aunt knows nothing about it. I can tell you just how it looks, and all there is in it."
"Perhaps you are one of the kind that can tell folks a good deal, and thinks nobody knows things so well as yourself," returned the disagreeable old woman, smiling and showing her toothless gums. "From what I can learn, I should judge you talked ruther too loud about your money; for there was a pusson heerd you in the ferry-boat, and took pains to go in the same car afterwards, and pick your pocket."
"Pick—my—pocket?"
"Yes, your pocket. You wise, wonderful young man!"
"How? When? Where?"