"I declare, Mary-Martha, I wouldn't think so uncharitably of folks as you do, not if I was paid for it. You're annoyed—that's what you are—because you got Mr—because you got Nanjivell watched for a German spy, and now I've proved you're wrong and you can't wriggle out of that!"
"Your godfather and godmothers did very well for you at your baptism, Charity Oliver. Prophets they must have been. . . . But just you take a chair and compose yourself and listen to me. A minute ago you complained that I took you up before you were down. Well, I'll improve on that by taking you down before you're up—or up so far as you think yourself. Answer me. This is a piece of gold, eh?"
"Why, of course. That's why I brought it to you."
"What kind of a piece of gold?"
"A guinea-piece. My father used to wear one on his watch-chain, and
I recognised the likeness at once."
"Quite so. Now when your father happened to earn a sovereign, did he go and hang it on his watch-chain?"
"What a silly question!"
"It isn't at all a silly question. . . . Tell me how many sovereigns you've seen in your life, and how many guineas?"
"O-oh! . . . I think I see what you mean-"
"I congratulate you, I'm sure! Now, I won't swear, but I'm morally certain that guineas haven't been what they call in circulation for years and years and years."