"Some one swiped it offen our clo'es-line, and when the police ketched
the thief, we was subpenyed, or ma was. She got thirty-five cents, and
all on us 'cept Iry went to hear her."

"'Aug, 29. Bishop Thurber. 5 dollers. Pade.'"

"Bishop Thurber!" the name was repeated with the force of an expletive.

"Seems to mind that more'n he did the police," thought Amarilly.

"It's quite a story," she explained, "and though it was orful at the
beginnin' it come out all right, jest as the plays all do. I jest
thought, I shouldn't hev put that down in the account, cause we give
back the five, so we didn't make nuthin' in a way. We wuz dead broke. I
suppose," she ruminated, "you don't know jest how orful it is to be
that."

"I don't, Amarilly, from my own experience," replied John
sympathetically, "but I can imagine how terrible it must be, and I am
very sorry--"

"Well, as long as it come out all right, it don't make no difference.
We'd got to pay our rent or else git put out, and I was up a stump till
the Boarder said to tackle a pawnshop. I didn't hev nuthin' but the
surplus to pawn, and I hated to pawn it on your account."

"I don't care, my child," was the fervent assurance, "where you took it
as long as it helped you in your troubles."