"And you haven't bought anything?"

"No, auntie; you wouldn't let me pay the car fare, or anything else. But
still I must have taken out the wallet by mistake. You see I _know_
nobody's picked my pockets."

"Why, Horace, you just said Granny picked 'em."

"No, Dot, I didn't! I only spoke of the queer way she had of leaning
forward."

"But you scowled at her sharp enough to take head off."

"If I were you, Dot, I wouldn't be any more disagreeable than I was
absolutely obliged to.--Now, auntie, how much does it cost to
advertise?"

"A dollar or so I believe."

"Well, if you'll lend me the money, I want to do it."

"To be plain with you, Horace, I really do not think it will be of the
slightest use in this case; but I will consent to it if it will be any
relief to your mind. We shall be obliged to cross the ferry again, for
the advertisement ought to go into a Brooklyn paper."

"We are tired enough to drop," said Dotty; "and all these stars and
things, too!"

"Yes, we are all tired; but we will leave you little girls at the
ferry-house on the other side."

"But, auntie," said Prudy, anxiously, "I shouldn't really dare have the
care of Fly. You know just how it is."

"Yes, I do know just how it is. Fly must walk, with her tired little
feet, to the Eagle office, with Horace and me; or else she must make a
solemn promise not to go out of the ferry-house."

"But I don't want to make a _solomon_ promise, auntie; I want to see the
eagle."

Mrs. Allen sighed. She began to think she had undertaken a great task
in inviting these children to visit her. Instead of a pleasure, they had
proved, thus far, a weariness--always excepting Prudy. She, dear,
self-forgetting little girl, could not fail to be a comfort wherever she
went.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE PUMPKIN HOOD.

To the "Eagle" office they went--obstinate Horace, patient Annt Madge,
and between them the "blue-bottle Fly."

"I do feel right sorry, auntie," said Horace, a sudden sense of shame
coming over him; "but I'm so sure I dropped the money, you know; or I
wouldn't drag you up this hill when you're so tired."

A sharp answer rose to Mrs. Allen's lips, but she held it back.

"Only a boy! In a fair way to learn a useful lesson, too. Let me keep my
temper! If I scold, I spoil the whole."

They entered the office, and left with the editor this advertisement:--

"Lost.--Between Prospect Park and Fulton Ferry, a porte-monnaie, marked
'Horace S. C