Bee had her hands full, arranging little odd dishes to cover the short rations and appease the honest appetites; but she did not labor in vain, for on that last Friday night her father gave her an approving pat with his good-night kiss:
“Well done, daughter dear. When mother comes home to-morrow, if the reserve fund is n’t enough you may draw on me.”
“Did you know about it, father?”
“I presented the tin drum to the enterprise,” said Mr. Arnold, laughing.
All the next day passed in a fever of excitement. Mrs. Arnold was to arrive at dusk, and the young Arnolds made a restless trio while they waited, and appetizing whiffs were borne up from the kitchen, distracting at least two hungry souls.
“The fatted calf will be a rare treat.” said Tom, complacently.
“It is roast chicken,” said Willie, smacking his lips. “Hooray! there she is!” and he darted out at the gate, running hatless down the street, as he caught sight of his mother.
“Well, and what about the reserve fund?” asked Mrs. Arnold, as they sat about the table after dessert, while the maid removed the plates.
Beatrice rose and brought the little tin drum.
“Feel it,” she said proudly.
Mrs. Arnold shook it and smiled.
“Open it,” suggested Mr. Arnold. “Will, run for a screw-driver; we ’ll have to batter the stronghold.”
“Wait a minute,” said honest Tom, “I feel as if I did n’t deserve my share of the savings; at any rate, I won’t take as much as the others,” and he told the whole story of the ten-dollar gold piece.
“Nonsense!” declared Beatrice. “Poor Tom has suffered enough, already; has n’t he, mother?”
“I ’ll reserve my decision,” said Mrs, Arnold. “Here, Tom, pry open that slit in the top.”
A minute later, the contents lay in a heap on the table. Suddenly Beatrice gave a little shriek. She dived into the pile and held up to the astonished gaze of the family the ten-dollar gold piece! Then a rush of memory came over her, and at last she found her voice.
“I put it there myself!” she cried; “my very own self—on that first day when Tom brought up the money. I slipped it out, and dropped it in the drum without looking at it, thinking it was a quarter. I was so afraid the boys would see me, and I wanted to be the first to start the fund. Oh, dear! oh, dear! when I think of all we ‘ve gone through!” and Beatrice poured out her little tale of woe.
There was much laughing and kissing, and a final count of the savings, which had mounted to a respectable figure.
“I won’t draw on you, father,” said Beatrice, merrily. “We’ve more than enough for our needs.”
“And I think I ’ll take my full share,” Tom, grinning. “The next time, Bee —”
“Oh, please let bygones he bygones!” said Beatrice. “Here comes Kitty Browne, with apple-blossoms on her hat. I’m going to tell her all about our reserve fund, and that now I can get the bracelet to match her necklace!”
