The Reserve Fund
By Belle Moses.
A very unusual thing had happened in the Arnold family—Mrs. Arnold had gone away for a month’s visit. One eventful morning she stepped into the buggy beside her husband, who was to drive her to the depot, and the three youthful Arnolds waved enthusiastic farewells as long as the carriage remained in sight; then Beatrice went slowly indoors, followed by the two boys. It is all very well to give the head of the family a jolly send-off, but the disturbed breakfast-table and the hastily pushed-back chairs were very depressing just at first.
Tom leaned against the mantel and whistled a particularly flat and doleful tune; Beatrice, with sad dignity, sank down into her mother’s place behind the coffee-pot; and little Willie took advantage of the moment of natural regret to solace his soul with orange marmalade.
“Now, boys,” said Beatrice, “we are going on just the same as usual, remember; it ’s perfectly splendid that mother was able to take the holiday, and I intend to keep things in such order here at home that father won't have a chance to miss her, if I can help it.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” said Tom, with brotherly candor; “for a day or two, maybe, you ‘ll get on first-rate, and father ‘ll bow and scrape and compliment, and write mother about the way Bee has taken hold—dear girl!—and the boys, bless ’em!‘ are not a bit of trouble—”
“Mother and I made some very nice plans last night,” said Beatrice; “of course, I ’m to manage the house-money.”
“Oh?” Tom groaned.
“And everything I save from the week’s allowance is to be put aside as a reserve fund, and dropped in here for safe-keeping”; and Beatrice produced a little tin drum with a slit in the top.
Little Willie looked at the tin drum and shook his head.
“Tom ’s a dreadful tease,” said his sister; “my reserve fund is for very pleasant things. Mother said that all we saved from the house-keeping would be due to our good management, and should be divided among us when she comes home—to spend in any way we like.”
The boys grinned—“our good management” appealed to them. Clever Bee!
“I don’t suppose,” said Tom, reflecting, “that you could give a rough guess as to the size of that reserve fund. I don’t like to start off with too big a notion about the reward; I ’d like a kodak—”
“And I need a new pair of roller-skates dreadfully,” declared little Willie.
Beatrice pulled a stray curl, and glanced at the brothers in a shamefaced way. “I suppose you ’ll think me silly,” she began; “but there’s a lovely little gold bracelet, with the sweetest little padlock and key, just like Kitty Browne’s necklace, and I ’ve set my heart on it—” She paused; there was an indulgent, charitable smile on the boyish faces. “Oh, well,” she finished, “there may not be any reserve fund—there’s no telling in this family. Tom!” ber tone was now pitched in a business key, “mother left a check with me; please have it cashed at the bank; it will be much easier to calculate when I have the money in hand,” and she gravely handed her brother the pink slip.
“Whew!” whistled Tom; “it’s a lot!”
“Nonsense! You forget there are a good half-dozen of us, counting the servants, and it will be four weeks. I’m going to divide the money into four piles, and I think we ‘ll come out nicely.”
“But where ’s the reserve fund?” struck in Willie, airing the new words.
“Give it time—give it time; it’s a thing which grows by what we feed on,” laughed Tom, as he pocketed the check and went off.
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