"Oh!" growled McTeague, behind his thick mustache, "he can go far before I'LL stop him." "And, say, Mac," continued Trina, pouring the chocolate, "what do you think?
Mamma wants me--wants us to send her fifty dollars.

She says they're hard up." "Well," said the dentist, after a moment, "well, I guess we can send it, can't we ?" "Oh, that's easy to say," complained Trina, her little chin in the air, her small pale lips pursed.

"I wonder if mamma thinks we're millionaires ?" "Trina, you're getting to be regular stingy," muttered McTeague.

"You're getting worse and worse every day." "But fifty dollars is fifty dollars, Mac.

Just think how long it takes you to earn fifty dollars.