"Did you get her a plaster?" asked Euphemia, drowsily.

"No, she did not need one. She's all right now. Were you worried
about me, dear?"

"No, I trusted in you entirely, and I think I dozed a little under
the bed."

In one minute she was asleep.

The boarder and I did not make this matter a subject of
conversation afterward, but Euphemia gave the girl a lecture on her
careless ways, and made her take several Dover's powders the next
day.

An important fact in domestic economy was discovered about this
time by Euphemia and myself. Perhaps we were not the first to
discover it, but we certainly did find it out,--and this fact was,
that housekeeping costs money. At the end of every week we counted
up our expenditures--it was no trouble at all to count up our
receipts--and every week the result was more unsatisfactory.

"If we could only get rid of the disagreeable balance that has to
be taken along all the time, and which gets bigger and bigger like
a snow-ball, I think we would find the accounts more satisfactory,"
said Euphemia.

This was on a Saturday night. We always got our pencils and paper
and money at the end of the week.