alk honest! Did Horace
have his pockets picked?"

"Yes, he did," replied Aunt Madge, speaking in her natural tones, and
throwing off the pumpkin hood; "if you want the truth, he did."

"Why Aunt Madge Allen! It does not seem possible! Who picked my
pockets?"

"Some one who heard you talking so loud about your money."

"But how could it be taken out, and I not know it?"

"Quite as easily as it could be put back, and you not know it."

"That's true, Horace Clifford! Auntie put it back, and you never knew
it."

"So she did," said Horace, looking as bewildered as if he had been
whirling around with his eyes shut; "so she did--didn't she? But that
was because I was taken by surprise, seeing her without a tooth in her
head, you know."

"You have been taken by surprise twice to-day, then," said Aunt Madge,
demurely. "It is really refreshing, Horace, to find that such a sharp
young man _can_ be caught napping!"

"Well, I--I--I must have been thinking, of something else, auntie."

"So I conclude. And you must be thinking of something else still, or
you'd ask me--"

"O, yes, auntie; how did the thief happen to give it up? There, there,
you needn't say a word! I see it all in your eyes! You took the money
yourself. O, Aunt Madge!"

"Well, if that wasn't queer doings!" cried Dotty.

"Yes, it is quite contrary to my usual habits. I never robbed anybody
before. I hadn't the faintest idea I could do it without Horace's
knowledge."

"Why, auntie, I never was so astonished in my life!" said the youth,
looking greatly confused.

"I never heard of a person's being robbed that wasn't astonished," said
Aunt Madge, with a mischievous smile. "Will you be quite as sure of
yourself another time, think?"

"No, auntie, I shan't; that's a fact."

"That's my good, frank boy," said Aunt Madge, kissing his forehead. "And
he won't toss his head,--just this way,--like a young lord of creation,
when meddlesome aunties venture to give him advice."

Horace kissed Mrs. Allen's cheek rather thoughtfully, by way of reply.

"I don't see, Aunt Madge," said Prudy, "why you went back across the
river to put that piece in the paper, when you were the one that had the
money all the time."

"I did it to pacify Horace. He _knew_ his pockets hadn't been pieked.
Besides I felt guilty. It was rather cruel in me--wasn't it?--to let him
suffer so long."

"Not cruel a bit; good enough for me," cried Horace, with a generous
outburst. "You're ju