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WOMAN AND HOME 
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The Regeneration of Sarah 
By Beulah Heaston and Anna Nixon 
say,” suggested Margaret, who always 
(Continued from page 1035.) 
When he reached home Ben found the 
girls upstairs, each busily engaged in 
evolving a Summer outfit from last year’s 
wardrobe. Looking around for a chair, 
and finding them all occupied, Ben sat 
down on the edge of a small sewing table, 
which immediately upset. Ben righted 
the table and looked ruefully down at the 
havoc he had wrought with tissue paper 
patterns and pink and white muslin. 
“Oh, look what you’ve done, Ben Wil¬ 
lard ! I’ve been trying all afternoon to 
get this dress out; and now, just when 
I had the pattern placed the way I want 
it, you’ve spoiled everything. I’ll never 
get it back in place again. I hate to 
make things over anyway and I’ll never, 
never touch the old thing again!” and 
Sarah’s outburst ended with a gush of 
angry tears. 
“I’m sorry I mixed things up so—I 
didn't know the old thing would upset 
and stooping down, Ben tried with 
clumsy fingers to gather up the patterns. 
“Better let me do that,” suggested 
Margaret, and soon she had all evidences 
of the mishap cleared away. 
“I had some news for you, but you’ve 
about scared me into forgetting it,” said 
Ben. 
“Oh, do remember it, this minute,” 
urged Margaret. 
“You’d better ask me to put off telling 
it, Miss Curiosity,” Ben teased. “It 
isn’t good news—at least it would be 
unpleasant if it were true,” he added. 
“I met that old sneak of a Jim Scott, 
and he claimed that mother never paid 
him for Prince.” 
“Are you sure she did pay him?” asked 
Alice anxiously. 
“Why, the mean old thing!” exclaimed 
Margaret. “Of course she paid him. I 
remember as plain as anything the very 
day she took the money over.” 
“Just like his nerve!” ejaculated 
Sarah. 
“Well, we needn’t worry about it,” 
put in Margaret; “we have a receipt for 
the money.” 
“Yes, that’s what I told Scott,” said 
Ben. 
“The receipts are in a box in the desk,” 
said Alice. “I’ll go down and look for 
it.” The others followed her down to 
the sitting room and crowded about the 
desk while she looked through the re¬ 
ceipts ; once, and then again, more 
slowly. At last she looked up with a 
troubled face. 
“It isn’t here!” 
“Oh, it must be—let me look,” and 
Margaret examined the contents of the 
box; but with no better success. 
“Are you sure there was one?” asked 
Alice in a frightened voice. 
“Of course there was—mother always 
took a receipt,” Ben assured her. 
“Did any of you see it?” persisted 
Alice. No, none of them had seen it. 
“If there was one, it must be here, 
and I’ll look till I find it;” and Alice 
settled down for a systematic search 
through the desk. Every pigeon-hole was 
emptied—every scrap of paper examined 
with care; but the search failed to re- 
veal the missing receipt. 
“It might be in the Bible,” Margaret 
suggested. But it was not in the Bible, 
nor in any of the likely or unlikely places 
that Alice and Margaret searched in the 
next few days. 
CHAPTER III. 
“We didn’t need to be worried about 
that receipt, did we?” Margaret ob¬ 
served, one day when she and Alice 
joined the boys, who were resting on the 
porch after the noon meal. 
“No, I guess Scott was only bluffing,” 
returned Ben. “It’s been more than a 
month, an’ I’ve met him two or three 
times; but he’s never mentioned it 
again.” 
“It’s a wonder though, that he didn’t 
go on with the matter when we didn’t 
produce the receipt,” commented Alice. 
“Maybe he isn’t as mean as people 
tried to think the best of every one. 
“It’s more likely that lie thinks we’ve 
found the receipt and are keeping quiet 
about it,” said Ben. 
“I suppose we’d have had to pay it if 
he had insisted,” commented Alice; “and 
I don’t know how we’d have raised the 
money. As I didn't get the school, it will 
keep us busy to pay the debts we have. 
I’m worried all the time for fear some¬ 
thing will happen to the crops. When 
it rains, I’m afraid the hay will be 
spoiled; and when it doesn’t rain, I fear 
the corn won’t grow. If ever we get 
these debts paid, we’ll not make any 
more.” 
“A nice, cheerful frame of mind to be 
in,” laughed Ben. “The weeds in that 
cornfield keep me so busy I don’t have 
time to think about anything else. We’ve 
got to get ahead of them before the hay’s 
ready to cut.” 
“What’s the use of pulling them out?” 
complained Joe. “They grow again, any¬ 
way. If I ever have a farm I ain’t go¬ 
ing to have any cornfield.” 
“What will you raise—Alfalfa?” 
smiled Alice. 
“I’ll not raise anything that takes 
much work—that’s a cinch!” 
“You and Sarah would make a good 
team,” commented Ben, starting toward 
the barn. “Come on, and we’ll go after 
those weeds. You’ll have plenty of time 
to rest when you get that farm you’re 
talking about.” 
“O gee! Can’t a fellow rest five min¬ 
utes ?” 
“If you want to go to the Grange fes¬ 
tival this evening, you’d better be get¬ 
ting your work done,” Alice admonished 
him. 
Joe rose with alacrity at this hint. 
“Say, how much are you going to give me 
to spend?” 
“I’ll see—as much as I can spare. 
You’ve been a pretty good boy this 
week. Tell Ben we’ll have supper a half 
hour early.” 
Alice thoroughly enjoyed that evening. 
It was almost the first opportunity she 
had had since she came home, to get into 
touch again with the social life of the 
community. While at college she natur¬ 
ally drifted away from home friends to 
some extent; and she was pleased to find 
how readily she took her old place. All 
the way home she talked cheerfully, re¬ 
peating harmless bits of neighborhood 
gossip. The others gave little heed to 
her remarks. Ben was tired, Joe was 
sleepy, and Margaret was depressed by 
a chance remark she had overheard that 
evening. 
In this, as in every country community, 
the affairs of the different families were 
more or less discussed by the neighbors. 
Margaret knew this, but it had never oc¬ 
curred to her that her own family could 
become the subject of neighborhood gos¬ 
sip, and it was a blow to her sensitive 
nature to learn that their financial af¬ 
fairs were being discussed. From the 
scrap of conversation she had heard, her 
imagination, always active, led her to be¬ 
lieve that people considered them actual¬ 
ly dishonest. 
At first, Margaret thought she had bet¬ 
ter say nothing about the matter to Alice 
and Ben; for she did not wish to spoil 
her sister’s pleasant evening; but she 
finally decided that they ought to know.' 
“Didn’t you have a nice time, dear?” 
Alice asked, when they were getting 
ready for bed. “You look positively dole¬ 
ful.” 
Margaret, who was sitting on the edge 
of her bed, braiding her hair, did not 
reply immediately, and when Alice turn¬ 
ed to her in questioning wonder, the 
younger girl buried her face in the pil¬ 
low and Began to cry. 
“Why Margaret, what’s the matter!” 
and Alice was at her sister’s side in a 
moment, trying to comfort her. 
Sarah, who had gone to the festival 
with Robert Allen, came upstairs just 
then and entered the room. 
“Oh, girls,” she was beginning, when 
she noticed Margaret’s distress; and 
ended with, “Good gracious! What’s 
wrong?” 
Margaret by this time had sufficient 
control of her voice to sob out: “Every¬ 
body’s talking about us.” 
“Talking about us?” both the older sis¬ 
ters echoed the words in amazement. 
“Yes. I heard Blanche Moore tell 
Clara Thompson and Ada Matthews— 
and I don’t know who all—a whole table¬ 
ful of people hear^ 1 her—that we don’t 
pay our debts,” and Margaret was cry¬ 
ing again. 
In a moment Alice’s pleasure was 
gone; like Margaret, she was hurt at the 
thought that their affairs were being dis¬ 
cussed by others. She was angry, as 
well. “Now, Margaret, tell us exactly 
what was said,” she commanded. 
“Blanche said that we are terribly in 
debt—that we owe nearly all the stores 
in town, and that she heard one say we 
had bought a horse that we couldn't pay 
for.” 
“But what did she say about us being 
dishonest—being in debt isn’t dishonesty 
—we’re going to pay what we owe.” 
“Why—I guess she didn’t really say 
we are dishonest,” acknowledged Margar¬ 
et. “It was just the way she said it 
that made me feel that people think so.” 
“What do we care what people think, 
as long as it isn’t true!” commented 
Sarah, who was posing before the mirror, 
and seemed well pleased with what she 
saw reflected there. 
“I guess you’d care if you knew what 
she said about you ; I hadn’t got to that.” 
“What did she say?” queried Sarah 
indifferently. 
“That she wouldn’t hold her head as 
high as you do if her family owed every¬ 
body ; and that you are nothing but a 
flirt, and she thinks it’s awful for you 
to flirt the way you do.” 
“Huh — jealousy!” sniffed Sarah. 
“Blanche is simply wild about Dick, and 
I monopolize too much of his time to 
suit her.” 
“How about Robert?” asked Alice. 
“Oh, I managed that all right—and 
kept them both in a good humor.” 
“And you’ll lose them both some day, 
if you’re not careful,” warned Alice. 
“No danger,” returned Sarah airily, 
with a complacent glance in the mirror. 
Alice felt relieved to learn that 
Blanche’s remarks probably had been 
prompted by jealousy, but decided that 
something must be done to prevent furth¬ 
er occasion for gossip. So the next day 
she went to David Porter, the guardian 
of the younger children, and told him 
what Margaret had heard. 
“I’m glad you came to me about this, 
Alice,” he said. “I don’t want to inter¬ 
fere in your affairs, for you and Ben are 
managing fine. It was all right to go 
into debt for the things you needed, but 
it’s best not to owe too many people. 
Some one is pretty sure to talk, and it 
isn’t well to have your financial affairs 
known to the whole neighborhood.” 
“I wish I knew who started the 
talk,” said Alice. 
“I don’t know. Frank Adams wouldn’t 
tell it, but one of his clerks might; and 
it’s probably been the same at the other 
stores. I think we’ll find that Jim Scott 
had something to do with it.” 
“I’m positive mother paid him, Mr. 
Porter. You know how particular she 
was about not buying anything until she 
had the money to pay for it.” 
“Of course she paid him. Scott’s a 
rascal, and everybody knows it. Has he 
said anything lately?” 
“No—it’s been nearly two months 
since he mentioned it.” 
“Perhaps he has dropped the matter— 
but all the same, I wish you could find 
that receipt.” 
“We’ve given up all hope of finding it. 
I don’t know what we’ll do if he men¬ 
tions it again.” 
“Don’t do anything till you see me. 
Now, about these debts—about how much 
do you owe?” Alice told him in detail. 
“Pshaw! That isn’t bad. But I’ll 
tell you what you’d better do; I’d ad¬ 
vise you to go to the bank and borrow 
enough money to pay everything you 
owe.” 
“I believe that would be a good plan— 
if they’ll let us have it,” Alice added 
doubtfully. 
(To be continued.) 
