leum rolled the glistening coins—several of them gold pieces—that Jess had noted so greedily in the egg store.
"What did I tell you?" cried Griff, looking at Mrs. Prentice.
That lady only exclaimed "Oh!" very loudly and looked aghast at the rolling coins. Jess half stooped to gather up the scattered money. Then she thought better of it and straightened up, looking straight into the face of the owner of the purse.
But old Mr. Chumley could not stand the lack of interest the others seemed to show in what—to him—was the phase of particular importance in the whole affair. There was real money rolling all over the Widow Morse's kitchen. He went down on his rheumatic old knees and scrambled for it. Mr. Chumley worshipped money, anyway, and this was a worshipper's rightful attitude.
"My, my, my!" he kept repeating. "How careless!"
But Mrs. Prentice's expression of countenance was swiftly changing. She flushed deeply—much more deeply than had Jess; then she paled. She picked up Mr. Chumley's phrase, although she allowed the old man to pick up the money.
"I certainly have been careless," she said. "I-
