id next time I came along
she'd show me things in her microscope. She has got a beetle's wing,
mother, mounted on glass, and when you gaze down at it it seems to be
covered with beautiful feathers, as long as though they were on a big
bird. And she has got a drop of water full of wriggly things all alive;
and she says we drink it by the gallon, and it is no wonder we feel bad
in our insides. I'll go, right enough. I suppose you have the money
ready?"

"No, Tom, that's just what I have not got. I told you how that night
when I had the misfortune to go and see your aunt and look after her
sick child, some one came into the shop and stole nineteen-and-sixpence
out of the till. I am so short from the loss of that money that I can't
pay Aunt Church for at least another week. Ask her if she'll be kind
enough to give me a week's grace, Tom; that's a good boy. I can't think
how the money was stolen."

"Why don't you put it into the hands of the police?" said Tom.

"Why, Tom," said his mother, looking at him with admiration, "you are a
smart boy. Do you know, I never thought of that. I will go round to the
police-station this very afternoon and get Police-Constable Macartney to
take it up."

"But, mother, the thief, whoever he is, has left the place long before
now. The money was stolen on Wednesday, and this is Saturday morning."

"Well, Tom, there's no saying. Anyhow, I will go round to the
police-station and lodge the information."

Accordingly, while Susy was again trying on her lovely pale-blue
cashmere blouse behind locked doors upstairs, Tom and his mother were
plotting how best to cover the loss of the nineteen-and-sixpence.
Naughty Susy, having made up her mind to deny herself a new frock and
new boots, had given the matter no further consideration. She was
accustomed to the fact that her mother was always in money difficulties.
As long as she could remember, this was the state of things at home. She
had come to the conclusion that grown-up persons were always in a
frantic state about money, and she had no desire to join these anxious
ones herself. As she could not mend matters, she did not see why she
should worry about them.

Tom had a scrap of dinner and then ran off to see Aunt Church. He found
the old lady sitting at her parlor window looking out as usual for him.
She was dressed in rusty black; she had a front of stiff curls on her
forehead, a white widow's-cap over it, and a small black crape
handkerchie