isn't it, Dad? That's eleven or fourteen dollars, isn't it, Dad?"

"That's fifty dollars, goose!" said her father making a dot with the
pencil on the tip of her upturned little nose.

"Oo!" said Teresa, awed. Hatted, furred, and muffed, she leaned on
her father's shoulder.

"Oo--Dad!" whispered Alanna, with scarlet cheeks.

"So NOW!" said her mother, with a little nod of encouragement and
warning. "Put it right in your muff, lovey. Don't lose it. Dan or
Jim will help you count your money, and keep things straight."

"And to begin with, we'll all take a chance!" said the mayor,
bringing his fat palm, full of silver, up from his pocket. "How old
are you, Mommie?"

"I'm thirty-seven,--all but, as well you know, Frank!" said his
wife, promptly.

"Thirty-six AND thirty-seven for you, then!" He wrote her name
opposite both numbers. "And here's the mayor on the same page,--
forty-four! And twelve for Tessie, and eight for this highbinder on
my knee, here! And now we'll have one for little Gertie!"

Gertrude Costello was not yet three months old, her mother said.

"Well, she can have number one, anyway!" said the mayor. "You make a
rejooced rate for one family, I understand, Miss Costello?"