"By the way, Clytie, I don't
like the way George has been behaving lately. He hasn't shown me his
report from school in months; whenever I ask him for it he has some
excuse. Hello! Is that little Mary crying?"
"I wonder what on earth has happened now!" exclaimed the mother, rushing
from the room, to return the next instant, pulling after her a
red-cloaked and red-hatted little girl who sought to hide behind her.
"Well, what do you think she's done?" Clytie's tone was withering as she
haled forth the shrinking culprit, her small hands over her eyes. "She
lost her purse with the dollar she had saved up for your Christmas
present--lost the money for dear father's present; and all because she
took it with her to buy a five-cent pencil--a green pencil with purple
glass in the end of it; to buy something for _herself_ before
Christmas!" Clytie paused tragically. "Of course, if she hadn't taken
her money out to spend it on herself she wouldn't have lost it!"
"I don't care!" burst out the culprit, her big dark eyes, just like her
mother's, flashing from under her brown curls, and her red lips set
defiantly.
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