"No, it can't be, unless a shower of gold was to come down through the ceiling--and that's not likely. Let's see what's in the letter."
Had he suspected it to contain gunpowder he could not have broken the seal more timidly. It was a letter without an envelope, folded in the old-fashioned way, and when it was opened, a thin paper enclosure fluttered to the ground. In his anxiety Seth did not notice what had escaped, and he turned the letter this way and that, without meeting with any writing but the address. Singular as it was, he experienced a feeling of relief at this dispersal of his fears.
"Here's something dropped, Daddy," said Sally, in a tone made almost gay by the change of expression in Seth's countenance.
Seth took the enclosure from Sally's hands. It was a Bank of England note for ten pounds.
"Why, it's money!" he exclaimed.
"Money!" cried Sally.
"Yes, Sally, money." He glanced up at the ceiling with an air of comical wonder. "We're in Tom Tiddler's ground, Sally."
"No, no," cried Sally, clapping her hands in glee, "it didn't drop from there. It dropped out of the letter."
"That's more wonderful, then, than all the rest put together. Out of the letter! There's not a letter in the letter, Sal--not one, from A to Z." He laughed aloud, and Sally laughed in sympathy. "I don't care where this comes from, nor why it has come. What I know is, it's the brightest bit of good luck that ever happened to a man. This piece of paper's a looking-glass, my child. Look at it--what do you see in it?"
Literal Sally, looking at the bank-note, as Seth held it open before her, began at the beginning.