Joe did not require a second invitation. In a few minutes they had paid their dimes and were ushered into the seats of the little temporary theatre. In the rush of hurrying in, the two boys had become separated, although they managed to obtain places in the same row. A woman with a market basket was on one side of Barry, while a burly fellow, with a red necktie, was on the other. Presently the place was filled and the lights were turned down. The films began to operate upon the canvas. The scene represented an explosion in a coal mine. It was very vivid and very lifelike. There was a flash of lightning and then a low rumbling sound which marked the beginning of the disaster. At the most interesting stage of the performance Barry felt himself being crowded by the man who sat next to him. The fellow acted so roughly that Barry protested. "Stop pushing me!" he cried. "Oh, I beg your pardon," was the polite reply, "I didn't intend to annoy you. It was an accident." The moment that Barry had spoken he was sorry. It was probable, he thought, that the man had leaned against him unintentionally and he regretted his resentment. He wondered whether he should not apologize. The lights went up in a minute or two, but Barry found, to his surprise, that his neighbor with the red necktie had already departed. The two boys wended their way out to the street together and were glad to get in a whiff of fresh air. They made their way slowly towards the new postoffice building on Pennsylvania Avenue, and after selecting a convenient desk, Barry began writing his letter to his mother. The work of composition was aided by Joe Hart, who, at intervals, offered many unique and unsolicited suggestions. Finally the missive was completed and Barry exclaimed: "Now for the money order. I'll go over to the window and buy it." He reached into his pocket for the wallet in which he had placed his money. His hand slid into vacancy. A look of grief overspread his face. "What's the matter, Barry," cried Joe; "are you sick?" "No," said Barry, "I'm not sick. The pocketbook's gone!" The two boys stood looking at each other speechlessly for many moments. Presently Joe spoke: "Do you think you had it when you went into the moving picture show?" "I _know_ I had it then." "Well, the answer's simple--you've been robbed!" For the time being Barry felt as though the universe had gone to pieces and lay in chaos at his feet, but after awhile he came to his senses, and at the suggestion of his friend, the two of them started to retrace their steps from the postoffice to the moving picture theatre. They had gone about two blocks when Joe Hart suddenly exclaimed: "Look. What's that in the street?"