Mr. Harold drew out a bulky book from his pocket, and handed Connie a crisp new bill.  Her eyes sparkled as she received it.

“But, Connie,” he continued, “I feel that I ought to give you this.  We Methodists have done a wicked thing in forgetting our November payments, and I will just give you this bill to make up for it.”

But Connie shook her head decidedly.  “Oh, no!  I’ll have to give it back, then.  Father would not stand that,—­not for one minute.  Of course, parsonage people get things given to them, quite a lot.  And it’s a good thing, too, I must say!  But we don’t hint for them, Mr. Harold.  That wouldn’t be right.”  She held out the bill toward him, with very manifest reluctance.

“Keep it,—­we’ll call it a loan then, Connie,” he said.  “And you may pay me back, five cents at a time, just as is most convenient.”

The four older girls were at the table when Connie arrived.  She exhaled quiet satisfaction from every pore.  Prudence glanced at her once, and then looked away again.  “She has reconciled herself,” she thought.  Dinner was half over before Constance burst her bomb.  She had intended waiting until they were quite through, but it was more than flesh and blood could keep!

“Are you going to be busy this afternoon, Prudence?” she asked quietly.

“We are going to sew a little,” said Prudence.  “Why?”

“I wanted you to go down-town with me after school.”

“Well, perhaps I can do that.  Fairy will be able to finish the coat alone.”

“You needn’t finish the coat!—­I can’t wear father’s coat to church, Prudence.  It’s a—­it’s a—­physical impossibility.”

The twins laughed.  Fairy smiled, but Prudence gazed at “the baby” with tender pity.

“I’m so sorry, dearest, but we haven’t the money to buy one now.”

“Will five dollars be enough?” inquired Connie, and she placed her crisp new bill beside her plate.  The twins gasped!  They gazed at Connie with new respect.  They were just wishing they could handle five-dollar bills so recklessly.

“Will you loan me twenty dollars until after Christmas, Connie?” queried Fairy.

But Prudence asked, “Where did you get this money, Connie?”

“I borrowed it,—­from the bank,” Connie replied with proper gravity.  “I have two years to pay it back.  Mr. Harold says they are proud to have my trade.”

Prudence was silent for several long seconds.  Then she inquired in a low voice, “Did you tell him why you wanted it?”

“Yes, I explained the whole situation.”

“What did he say?”

“He said he knew just how I felt, because he knew he couldn’t go to church in his wife’s coat.—­No, I said that myself, but he agreed with me.  He did not say very much, but he looked sympathetic.  He said he anticipated great pleasure in seeing me in my new coat at church next Sunday.”

“Go on with your luncheon, twins,” said Prudence sternly.  “You’ll be late to school.—­We’ll see about going down-town when you get home to-night, Connie.  Now, eat your luncheon, and don’t talk about coats any more.”