“‘Which,’ says I, ‘Miss Jane?’
“‘No,’ says she, ‘the golden-haired one that you’ve been telling me about.’
“‘Well,’ says I, ‘what of her, marm;? I’m just a-going over to Monockonok, and can show you the way, if you want to see her.’
“‘No, not just now,’ says she, ‘I’ve something else to attend to first; but if you see this girl, tell her to meet me, near sunset, at the spring where she went so late last night—she will understand you.’
“‘Well,’ says I, ‘if I may be so bold, what do you want with Mary Derwent?’
“‘I wish to speak with her,’ says she, with a wave of her hand that made Gineral Washington back off sideways; ‘only give my message, good woman, and here’s a guinea for you.’
“Here she took a piece of gold from her pocket, and held it out.”
“But you did not take it, Aunt Polly?”
“Didn’t take it! trust me for letting a bright golden guinea slip through these fingers when it can be honestly come by—of course I took it.”
Here Aunt Polly drew forth a shot-bag from her enormous pocket, untied the towstring, and exhibited a quantity of silver and huge copper pennies, and from among them, daintily folded in a dry maple-leaf, she took a bright piece of gold.