a grieved, half-angry way, that touched Dempster to the
heart. He took out his pocket-book, but not another sign of money was in
it. Then he felt in three or four pockets with the air of a man who was
tormented with doubts of finding anything. At last he stopped looking.

"I haven't another red cent about me, dear. Indeed I haven't."

"Dear me, what am I to do? There is a guipure sacque at Stewart's that I
must have."

"Couldn't you get along without it?" says Dempster, with such pathetic
earnestness that I really felt sorry for him.

"Get along without it! How can you ask?"

"That Brussels lace thing," faltered Dempster.

"What, that? I have had it six months at least; besides, I saw another
just like it at the hotel, and that is enough to disgust one with
anything. If people will pattern after me, I can't help it. Then again
one gets so tired of the same thing."

"But I have no more money."

"Can't you draw a check?"

"My check-book is at the office."

"Always so when I want anything. Now, Dempster, this is too bad."

"Well," says Dempster, desperately, "get the thing, and tell Stewart to
charge it?"

Cousin E. E. turned her face away. It was awful cloudy, and I could see
that she was biting her lips. She had an awful long bill at Stewart's
already. Then her face lighted up.

"Can't I have them sent C. O. D., by express? You will have time to get
plenty of money before then," says she, as soft as silk weed.

"I hate the system," says Dempster; "money in hand is the only way a
lady should make purchases. Then she knows what she is about. Everything
else leads to extravagance. I hate bills as if they were copperheads;
they are things I never will forgive."

I saw that E. E. turned pale, and a red flush came around her eyes as if
she were just ready to burst out a-crying.

Dempster thought it was because he had stood out about the money and
gave in a trifle.

"For this once," says he, "have the things charged, but bring the bill
with you. I must know what I am about in these matters."

"But I mightn't find them all in one place. Hadn't we better make it a
C. O. D., just for once?" says she, pleading for her own way as if her
mouth were full of humble pie.

"Do as you please for this once," says he, half out of patience, "but
remember, I am set against bills and running accounts--pay as you go
along, is my motto."

E. E. drew a deep breath, and, putting the money in a little mite of a
leather sat