much. We'll send a note to his mother, and young sir, if
you dare to come in this store again, we'll send you to jail, I
think."

Quite a crowd had collected. One lady looked at him sharply.

"Why, it's little Jack Borden," she said. "What's the matter?"

Marilla told the story over.

"I don't care," Jack flung out. "I just stamped on the old things."

"Take that to Mrs. Borden," and the man handed Marilla a folded note.
"Now, I'll see you out, young sir."

Marilla trembled from head to foot. She was very much ashamed though
none of it had been her fault. But what would Mrs. Borden say? What if
Mrs. Borden should send her back to the Bethany Home! Oh, she did not
want to go. But she could not manage Jack.

The young man stopped short when they reached the house, "I ain't
comin' in just now," he said decidedly.

When Marilla was in the house she always answered the door bell.
Bridget protested she could not run up and down so much and she didn't
always hear it. Miss Florence came now.

"Oh, Marilla, what's the matter?"

"Jack has run off down the street. And, oh, Miss Florence"--ending in
a fit of crying.

"What _is_ the matter? Did you lose the money?"

"Oh, no, here is everything and the change. But Jack----"

"Come upstairs and tell us." Miss Florence opened the bag, counted the
change, took out the parcels and a note.

"Why, what is this?"

"The man told me to bring it home. I held Jack's hand tight all the
way down to the store and gave the girl the bag because I couldn't
open it with one hand. She took out the money and put in the parcel
and gave it to me and said, 'Wait for the change.' When it came she
handed it to me and turned away, and when I was putting it in the bag
Jack ran off. You know how the paths go in and out. I looked and
looked and saw him over at the toy counter, but before I could reach
him he snatched a lot of things and ran, and the girl went after him,
too, and then he threw them down and stamped on them and ever so many
people came and the man was very angry----"

Marilla cried as if her little heart had been broken. Miss Florence
handed the note to her sister who had been listening in amaze.

"Marilla," began Florence, "you have done the errand very well. Don't
cry, child. We shouldn't have let Jack go with you."

Mrs. Borden's face turned very red. "A great fuss about sixty-seven
cents. Accidents will happen."

"But throwing them down and stamping on them was no acci