“Gee!” gasped Tom. “How’d we do it?” “It’s all here, day by day. Let’s see. On station trips we made exactly a hundred and twelve dollars. We took in sixty-five dollars on evening――er――rentals and ten dollars and seventy-five cents the day of the picnic. Total, one hundred, eighty-seven, seventy-five!” “Great Scott! Why, that’s――that’s over two thousand dollars a year! Are you sure you’ve got it right, Will?” “Look for yourself,” said Willard offendedly. Tom dropped from the windowsill and followed Willard’s finger as it passed down the pages, pausing at totals and pointing out “Forwards.” “Seems all right,” murmured Tom. “Say, we’ve been doing some business lately, haven’t we?” “You bet. Look at this day, August eighth; nine dollars and twenty-five cents from station work and six dollars from an evening party; total, fifteen dollars and twenty-five cents! That’s the best day of all, although the picnic day came pretty close; thirteen-fifty. We didn’t do much station work that day.” Tom whistled softly and sank into a chair. “A hundred and eighty-seven!” he muttered. Then, his voice dropping: “I suppose, though, we’ve had to spend a lot of that,” he said questioningly. “Ye-es, a good deal. Gasoline costs such a lot, Tom. Wish we could get along without it! Here’s what we’ve disbursed.” “Dis――what?” asked Tom. “Spent, you idiot! Gasoline, seventeen dollars and thirty cents――――” “That isn’t so much!” “Repairs and supplies other than fuel, eight dollars and sixty cents; printing, including sign-painting, three dollars and eighty-five cents; one tire and one tube, twenty-two dollars and fifty cents――――” “I’d forgotten that,” murmured Tom sadly. “Expense of trip to Providence, two dollars and twelve cents; incidental expenses, one dollar and sixty-five cents. That’s all.” “And――and how much does it leave us?” asked Tom anxiously. “We’ve expended fifty-six dollars and two cents. Take that from one hundred, eighty-seven, seventy-five and it leaves one hundred and thirty-one dollars and seventy-three cents.” “Do you mean to say we’ve got all that left?” demanded Tom. “No, because we paid Saunders twenty dollars, you see.” “That’s right.” “So we’ve got on hand one hundred and eleven dollars and seventy-three cents. Or, anyway, that’s what we ought to have.” “Haven’t we?” asked Tom anxiously. Willard shook his head. “We’ve only got a hundred and ten, ninety-eight. We’re seventy-five cents shy, Tom. I’m sorry. I’ve put away every cent and kept strict account, but――――” “Shucks, what does seventy-five cents matter when we’ve got all that money? And――and maybe you made a mistake in your figuring.” “Maybe I didn’t!” exclaimed Willard indignantly. “More likely you forgot to hand some money over some time, Tom.” “I might have,” mused the other. Then, triumphantly: “I’ll tell you where your seventy-five is!” he cried. “Remember the chap who went away without paying Mr. Duff for his two sample-cases and bag?”