o come in with a drink of water," there was a
strange arrival. Nathaniel, the waiting man, ushered into the parlor a
droll little old woman, dressed in a short calico gown, with gay figures
over it as large as cabbages; calf-skin shoes; and a green pumpkin hood,
with a bow on top.

"Good evening, ma'am," said Horace, rising, and offering her a chair.
She did not seem to see very well, in spite of her enormous spectacles;
for she took no notice of the chair, and remained standing in the
middle of the floor.

[Illustration: THE PUMPKIN HOOD.]

"She stares at me so hard!" thought Horace--"that's the reason she can't
see anything else."--"Please take a chair, ma'am."

"Can't stop to sit down. Is your name Horace S. Clifford?" said the old
woman, in a very feeble voice.

Horace looked at her; she had not a tooth in her head.

"Yes, ma'am; my name is Horace Clifford," said he, respectfully. He had
great reverence for age, and could keep his mouth from twitching; but
I'm sorry to say Prudy's danced up at the corners, and Dotty's opened
and showed her back teeth The woman must have had all those clothes made
when she was young, for nobody wore such things now; but it wasn't
likely she knew that, poor soul!

"Did you go to the 'Brooklyn Eagle' office, to-day, to ad-_ver_-tise
some lost money, little boy?"

"Yes, ma'am.--Why, that advertisement can't have been printed _so_
quick!"

"No, I calculate not. Did you go in with a lady, and a leetle, oneasy,
springy kind of a leetle girl?"

"Why, that's me," put in Fly.

"Yes, ma'am--yes; were you there? What do you know about it?"

"Don't be in a hurry, little boy. I want to be safe and sure. I expect
you took notice of a young man in a bottle-green coat,--no, a
greenish-black coat,--a-sittin' down by the door."

"O, I don't know. Yes, I think I did. Was he the one? Did he find the
money?"

"Did you walk up Orange Street?" continued the old woman. "No, I mean
Cranberry Street?"

"O, _dear_, I don't know! Prudy, run, call Aunt Madge. Please tell me,
ma'am, have you got it with you? Is my name on the inside?"

"Wait till the little girl calls your aunt. Perhaps she'd be willing to
let me tell the story in my own way. I'd ruther deal with grown folks,"
said the provoking old lady.

Horace's eyes flashed, but he contrived to keep his temper.

"It is my purse, ma'am, and my aunt knows nothing about it. I can tell
you just how it looks, and all there is in it."

"Pe