Andy’s spirits soared as the pile rose higher.
“God bless ’er little ’eart,” he murmured, “she can ’ave an ’ole shipload of them blinkin’ camisole things.”
An hour later, as Donald climbed the hill to deliver the prize, he met Doctor Paul.
“How is she, Doctor?”
“She’s had a nasty shaking up, but there are no bones broken. She will have to remain in bed for a week or so.”
Wainwright saw Donald coming and stepped outside the door to meet him. “She’s sleeping,” he said in a low tone. He looked questioningly at Donald as the latter passed him the package of money.
“The prize money,” Donald explained.
Wainwright peeped at the contents and his face lit up with pleased astonishment. “I understood that the purse was to be a small one!”
When Donald told him of the collection, Wainwright’s face flushed hotly. “Is that the custom?” he questioned sharply.
Donald nodded.