Little Folks Astray Part 20

"Why, Aunt Madge, that isn't you!"

"But how'd you take out yer teeth?" said Fly; "your teeth? your teeth?"

"O, I didn't take them out, Miss Bright-eyes. I only put a little spruce gum over them."

"Horace, I can't find auntie anywhere in this house," said Prudy, appearing at the parlor door. "Do you suppose she's gone off and hid?"

"Yes, she's hid inside that old gown."

"What do you mean?"

"That's auntie, and her teeth's _in_," explained Fly.

"Only I wish she was an old woman, and had really brought me my money,"

said Horace, in a disappointed tone. "I declare, there was one time I thought the old nuisance was coming round to it, and going to give me the wallet."

"What a wise, wonderful youth!" said the aged dame, in a cracked voice.

"Thinks I can give him his wallet, when he's got it himself, right close to his heart."

Horace put his hand in his breast pocket.

Wonder of wonders! There was the wallet! And not only his, but Prudy's!

Had he been asleep all day? Or was he asleep now?

"Money safe? Not a cent gone. Hoo-rah! Hoo-ra-ah!"

And for want of a cap to throw, he threw up Fly.

"Where did it come from? Where did the old woman find it? O, no; the man in the green-bottle coat?--O, no; there wasn't any old woman," cried the children, hopelessly confused. "But who found the money? Did I drop it on Cranberry Street?" "Did he drop it on Quamby Street?" "Who brought it?" "Who bringed it?"

Aunt Madge stuffed her fingers into her ears. "They are all talking at once; they're enough to craze a body! They forget how old I am! Came all the way from the Eagle office, afoot and alone, with only four children to--"

"O, auntie, don't play any more! Talk sober! Talk 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 refres.h.i.+ng, 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 just the jolliest woman, auntie--the jolliest woman!

There you are; you look so little and sweet! But if folks think they're going to get ahead of you, why, just let 'em try it, say I!"

DEAR READERS: Horace was scarcely more astonished, when his pocket was picked, than I am this minute, to find myself at the end of my book! I had very much more to tell; but now it must wait till another time.

Meanwhile the Parlins and Cliffords are "climbing the dream tree." Let us hope they are destined to meet with no more misfortunes during the rest of their stay in New York.