Here I've been wasting my time, and all I get for it is just dog's victuals, and enough scrip to light my pipe." With this he began to walk off, puffing.

Dotty longed to run after him and call out, "Please, sir, give me back my money." But it was too late; and summoning all her pride, she managed to crush down the tears.
"Tell the people in this house that I shake off the dust of my feet against them," wheezed the stranger, indignantly.

"The dust of my feet--do you hear ?" "What a wicked, disagreeable old thing!" murmured Jennie Vance.
"Dish-gwee-bly old fing!" cried "Flyaway," nodding her head till her hair danced like little tufts of corn-silk.
"I'm glad I didn't give him any of _my_ money," said Jennie, loftily.
"So am I," returned Susy.
Prudy said nothing.
"I didn't see him shake his feet," said Dotty, changing the subject; "and the dust wouldn't come off if he did shake 'em." "Have you any more Christmas money left, Dotty," said Jennie, twirling her gold ring on her finger.
"O, yes, ever so much at home.

And I shall soon have more," added Dotty, with a great effort to be cheerful; "for people are always dropping pins." "I've got any quantity of scrip," pursued Jennie; "and I don't have to work for it, either." "O, dear," thought Dotty, "what's the use to be good?
I 'sposed if I gave away my money _cheerfully_, they'd all feel ashamed of themselves; but they don't! I wish I had it back in my box, I do!".