"Mother said you'd like it," said the beaming George, ducking his head
suddenly and kicking out his legs from behind.

"And you'll pay the five dollars?" supplemented Clytie anxiously.

"Surely!" said Langshaw. The glances of the parents met in one of the
highest pleasures that life affords: the approval together of the good
action of their dear child. "George can go out and get this ten-dollar
bill changed."

"If you can't spare it, father--" suggested the boy with some new sense
of manliness, hanging back.

"I'm glad to be able to spare it," said the father soberly. "It's a good
deal of money," he added. "I suppose, of course, you'll put it in the
bank, George?"

"Now you mustn't ask what he's going to do with it," said Clytie.

"Oh, isn't it much!" cried little Mary.

"Dear me, there's the doorbell," said Clytie. "Who can it be at this
hour? Run, George, and see!"

"It's a letter for you, mother," announced George, reappearing. "There's
a man in the hall, waiting for an answer."

"It looks like a bill," said Clytie nervously, tearing open the
envelope; "but I don't owe any bill. Why, it's two and a quarter, from
the tailor, for fixing over my old suit last fall! I'm positive I paid