"I didn't take table-board--nor a room--the first year--nor much the
second. I've allowed $1.00 a week for that, and $2.00 for the
third--that takes out two, you see. Then it's $156 a year till I was
fourteen and earned board and wages, two more years at $156--and I've
paid since I was seventeen, you know."

"Well--I guess you did--I guess you did." He grinned genially. "Yes,"
he continued slowly, "I guess that's a fair enough account. 'Cording to
this, you owe me $3,600.00, young woman! I didn't think it cost that
much to raise a girl."

"I know it," said she. "But here's the other side."

It was the other side. He had never once thought of such a side to the
case. This account was as clear and honest as the first and full of
exasperating detail. She laid before him the second sheet of figures
and watched while he read, explaining hurriedly:

"It was a clear expense for ten years--not counting help with the
babies. Then I began to do housework regularly--when I was ten or
eleven, two hours a day; three when I was twelve and thirteen--real work
you'd have had to pay for, and I've only put it at ten cents an hour.
When Mother was sick the year I was fourteen, and I did it all but the
washing--all a servant would have done for $3.00 a week. Ever since
then I have done three hours a day outside of school, full grown work
now, at twenty cents an hour. That's what we have to pay here, you
know."

Thus it mounted up: