cigarettes on hand for the fellows."

"But, Neal, you told me once how large your allowance is, and I don't
see how you ever in the world managed to spend so much more."

"Easily enough, as I said before. You see, I have the name of being a
rich fellow, and I have to live up to it, which makes it hard. I have to
live up to it, when, after all, I'm practically dependent on Hessie. I
haven't a cent of my own until I'm twenty-five. This fellow Bronson
offered to lend me a fiver one day, and I got into the habit of asking
him. I didn't mean to let it run on so long. He's a queer lot--awfully
smooth on the outside, and inside hard as nails. We were good friends at
first; then he did something I didn't like, and I cut him; but he didn't
seem to mind it, and afterwards when he offered me the fiver I thought I
might as well take it. What a mean will that was anyhow of
grandmother's!"

Neal moodily tugged at a wisp of straw which he held in his teeth, and
looked across the meadow. A herd of cows came down on the opposite side
of the river for a drink, and Bob barked at them loudly, running as near
to them as he dared.

For a time Cynthia did not speak. Then she said,

"Aren't you going to ask mamma?"

"I suppose I'll have to. I wouldn't mind a bit if she were not married,
but I suppose your father will have to know about it."

"I suppose," said Cynthia, sagely, "mamma would have just given it to
you without saying anything, while papa will ask questions."

"That's just about the size of it. And he will not only ask the
questions, but he won't like the answers. I think I won't tackle them
for a hundred all at once. I'll put it at fifty, and try to get Bronson
to wait for the rest. I suppose I'll get some tips at Christmas-time."

"I think it would be ever so much better, Neal, to tell the whole truth.
It will save ever so much trouble in the end."

"But it won't save trouble now, and I hate a fuss. The fifty business
will be bad enough. I like to take things quietly."

"That's just it, Neal. Do take my advice, and tell mamma the whole
thing."

"That's the worst of telling a girl anything. They always want to give
advice. I wonder why it is that a woman from her earliest years loves to
advise?"

"Much you know about it," said Cynthia; "and you needn't have told me
about your scrape if you didn't want me to say anything."

"Well, I've told you now, and you must give me your word of honor that
you will never give me