"But—but, you are wondering where the next will come from. You think me like a child in having spent so much in this one famous supper."
"Yes, like a child, a good, warm-hearted child—who could blame you?"
"Blame!" cried the grandmother, with tears in her eyes;—"blame! God bless her!"
"But then," said the child, shaking her head and forcing back a tear that broke through the sunshine in her eyes, "one should not spend everything at once; grandpa means that, I suppose?"
"No, no!" answered the old woman, eagerly, "he does not mean to find the least fault. How should he?"
"It would have been childish, though; but perhaps I should have done it, who knows?—one don't stop to think with a bright half dollar in one's hand, and a poor old grandfather and grandmother, hungry at home. But then look here!"
The child drew a coin from her bosom, and held it up in the candle-light.
"Gold!" cried the astonished grandfather, absolutely turning pale with surprise.
"A half eagle, a genuine half eagle, as I am alive!" exclaimed the old woman, taking the coin between her fingers and examining it eagerly.