It seemed an odd thing when officials here could not pry loose this tiny suburban Philadelphia community's financial books from the borough treasurer even though they tried all last winter.

Millbourne is, after all, the state's smallest borough, with, presumably, the state's smallest ledger books.

By February, the treasurer was asked to resign. He complied. By March, when the annual audit was due, he still had not turned over his records.

Somebody smelled a rat. Marge Marcelletti, the new treasurer, found it. The former treasurer, she discovered, had no records to turn over because he had not kept any. None.

Not a single check stub had been filled out for 1979 and 1980. Both ledgers were empty. And the records for 1976 and 1977 were missing, with no indication that they had ever been kept.

All of this, of course, put the good citizens of Millbourne -- all 637 of them -- in an awkward position. The borough is due about $12,000 in federal and state funds for 1979, which cannot be delivered until the audit is done.

With no records, an audit will wait until the financial disaster is cleaned up. With a 1979 budget of $238,000, it's a full-time job.

How soon the book are reconstructed depends, the borough council president said, on "how tired Marge is at night and how many snags she runs into."