THE Corliss family were sadly in need of funds. There were the butcher and the baker and the candlestick-maker politely presenting their bills to the family recently arrived in Crowfield, suggesting in print and in writing and by word of mouth that “bills are payable monthly.” Now it was the end of the month, and there was no money to pay these same bills; for the expense of moving and settling in a new place had been heavy, and their small income had already disappeared.

“How much money is it that we need for immediate bills, Mother?” asked Dr. Corliss wearily. It always tired him to talk about money.

“Just about a hundred dollars would bridge us over nicely,” said his wife, with an anxious pucker in her forehead. “But I don’t see any sign of our getting that hundred dollars for a month to come. And then it will be needed for fresh bills.”

“Why, of course, you must take my hundred dollars that I found in Aunt Nan’s book,”[73] said Mary cheerfully, though it cost her a pang to think of using up her wonder-gift so soon in this way. “I’ll just take it out of the bank next Saturday morning.”

[73]

“I hate to touch that money of yours, Mary, even if we put it back for you when we can,” sighed her mother. “I hoped we could save that for your nest-egg toward a college fund. Let me think it over a bit longer. Perhaps something will happen to help us. Or I may think of some way to earn the money.”

They left discussion of the matter for that time. But they all took the troublesome problem away with them into their daily tasks.

“It is a shame for Mary to have to give up her hundred dollars,” thought John. “I wish I could help earn some money so that she needn’t do it. If I was in the city I could sell papers or something. But what can I do here when I have to go to school every day? School takes up such a lot of time!”

John sighed as he swung his books over his shoulder and started off for school. All day he thought about that needed money; and it was in his mind when he turned in at the gate that night.

“I wish I was clever and could think up something,”[74] said John to Caliban, who was sitting on the top step looking at him when John came in. “I wonder you don’t help us, Caliban. Come, now, can’t you think of something, old witch-cat?”

[74]

Caliban 

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