'Have
another morsel of boot soup, darling!' Why, the time dad had to use
the money he had half promised me for that charmeuse, and we bought
the supper at the delicatessen--you know, when Mr. Blake stopped and
you asked him to stay to tea, when there wasn't a thing in the house
to eat--do you remember that?"
"Yes, but I don't see what it has to do with shipwrecked sailors
eating their boots. Really, Alice--"
"Of course it was just the same," explained the younger girl,
merrily. "There was nothing fit to give Mr. Blake, and I took the
money that was to have been paid for my charmeuse, and slipped out to
Mr. Dinkelspatcher's--or whatever his name is--and bought a meal.
Well, we ate my dress, that's all, Ruth."
"Why, Alice!"
"And I wish we had it to eat over again," went on the other, with a
half sigh. "I don't know what we are going to do for supper. How much
have we in the purse?"
"Only a few dollars."
"And we must save that, I suppose, until dad gets some salary, which
won't be for a time yet. And we really ought to celebrate in some
way, now that he's had this bit of good luck! Oh, isn't it just awful
to be poor!"
"Hush, Alice! The neighbors will hear you.
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