There were to be no more charge accounts. For the weekly expenses Helen was to have every cent that could possibly be spared; but what she could not pay cash for, they must go without, if they starved. In a pretty little book she must put down on one side the money received. On the other, the money spent. She was a dear, good little wife, and he loved her 'most to death; but he couldn't let her run up bills when he had not a red cent to pay them with. He would borrow, of course, for these--he was not going to have any dirty little tradesmen pestering him with bills all the time! But this must be the last. Never again! And Helen said yes, yes, indeed. And she was very sure she would love to keep the pretty little book, and put down all the money she got, and all she spent. All this was very well in theory. But in practice-- At the end of the first week Helen brought her book to her husband, and spread it open before him with great gusto. On the one side were several entries of small sums, amounting to eight dollars received. On the other side were the words: "Spent all but seventeen cents." "Oh, but you should put down what you spent it for," corrected Burke, with a merry laugh. "Why?" "Why, er--so you can see--er--what the money goes for." "What's the difference--if it goes?" "Oh, shucks! You can't keep a cash account that way! You have to put 'em both down, and then--er--balance up and see if your cash comes right. See, like this," he cried, taking a little book from his pocket. "I'm keeping one." And he pointed to a little list which read:-- Lunch $.25 Cigar .10 Car-fare .10 Paper .02 Helen 2.00 Cigars .25 Paper .02 "Now that's what I spent yesterday. You want to put yours down like that, then add 'em up and subtract it from what you receive. What's left should equal your cash on hand." "Hm-m; well, all right," assented Helen dubiously, as she picked up her own little book. Helen looked still more dubious when she presented her book for inspection the next week. "I don't think I like it this way," she announced, with a pout. "Why not?" "Why, Burke, the mean old thing steals--actually steals! It says I ought to have one dollar and forty-five cents; and I haven't got but fourteen cents! It's got it itself--somewhere!" "Ho, that's easy, dear!" The man gave an indulgent laugh. "You didn't put 'em all down--what you spent." "But I did--everything I could remember. Besides, I borrowed fifty cents of Mrs. Jones. I didn't put that down anywhere. I didn't know where to put it." "Helen! You borrowed money--of that woman?" "She isn't 'that woman'! She's my friend, and I like her," flared Helen, hotly. "I had to have some eggs, and I didn't have a cent of money. I shall pay her back, of course,--next time you pay me." Burke frowned.