"What do you want?"
"Money, of course."
"Why, Neal, mamma gave you a lot the other day!"
"Oh, that was a mere drop in the bucket. Yes, I really think I'll have to tell you what a fix I'm in. Perhaps you'll see some way out of it."
"Do," said Cynthia, sympathetically; "I am sure I will."
"Well, it's just this: I owe a lot of money to a fellow that goes to St. Asaph's, and I had a letter from him this morning asking me to fork out at once, or he would write to my guardians or speak to the trustees at the school. It's a nasty thing to do, anyhow. I don't think the fellow is a gentleman."
"Then why did you ever have anything to do with him?"
"That's just like a girl! I'm sorry I told you."
"Oh, don't say that! Indeed, it only just struck me that people who are not gentlemen are so horrid. Please go on, Neal, and tell me the rest."
"There's nothing to tell except that I owe him a hundred dollars."