PETTY CASH.
"Base is the slave that pays."
"Aunt Mattie!"
"My child?"
"Would you mind writing it down at once? I shall be quite certain to forget it if you don't!"
"My dear, we really must wait till the cab stops. How can I possibly write anything in the midst of all this jolting?"
"But really I shall be forgetting it!"
Clara's voice took the plaintive tone that her aunt never knew how to resist, and with a sigh the old lady drew forth her ivory tablets and prepared to record the amount that Clara had just spent at the confectioner's shop. Her expenditure was always made out of her aunt's purse, but the poor girl knew, by bitter experience, that sooner or later "Mad Mathesis" would expect an exact account of every penny that had gone, and she waited, with ill-concealed impatience, while the old lady turned the tablets over and over, till she had found the one headed "PETTY CASH."
"Here's the place," she said at last, "and here we have yesterday's luncheon duly entered. One glass lemonade (Why can't you drink water, like me?) three sandwiches (They never put in half mustard enough. I told the young woman so, to her face; and she tossed her head—like her