“Fudge!” quoth my father testily, for he was somewhat sore on this point. “That coat’s a good coat, a very good coat, and years of wear in it still, with care. I’m calculating on that coat lasting my time; and if I should live to see a grandson breeched, which please God I shall”—and his dear old eyes rested lovingly on me and Miriam, who blushed a rosy red—”there’s some very good patching in it for a bairn’s breeks. But as for keeping that store of golden gear, why, that’s stark nonsense. It’s yours, and, now you’ve seen it and handled it, if you’ve no present use for it let it e’en go back forthwith to the bank, and lie at usury against a rainy day. What do you say, Ruth?”
Now my sister was idly toying with the heaped coins, letting them slide through her fingers and tinkle pleasantly in the ear; but her face was full of thought. She ever had the brains of the family had Ruth, though she was, of course, not learned like my father. But I’ve often noticed that your learned man has little wit for everyday affairs.
“You two are both out of your time, aren’t you?” she asked all of a sudden.
“What’s that got to do with it?” I snapped.
“And do you mean to go on slaving for Mr. Wrigley all your days? A poor look out for the girl you’ve clapped your eyes on. Do you either of you ever look ahead, I wonder? Time doesn’t stand still, if you do. What’s the use of good money rusting in th’ Bank? Not that if you take it there it’ll stop there. Do you think th’ Bank ’ll just lock it up in a strong-box an’ pay you interest just for th’ fun o’ keepin’ it safe for you. Where do they get th’ interest from to pay you? Why, by lending your money to folk ’at have th’ brains to use it. Oh! I’ve no patience with you.”
Jim nudged me delightedly. “Oo’s on th’ scent,” he whispered. “Eh! what a head-piece—an’ to be wasted on a woman!”
“H’m, I suppose so. I never thought of that,” said my father.
“Well,” continued Ruth, “I haven’t read it in books; but it stands to sense someone must addle th’ brass for th’ Bank to pay interest with. Th’ Bank isn’t a cheese ’at breeds golden maggots all o’ theirsen. An’ what I want to know is, why can’t these two great babbies o’ ours find a use for this money, if Miriam’s willing to trust it to ’em, an’ make a better living for themselves and for those that’ll look to them for a home, than ever they’ll make giving th’ best o’ their days to Mr. Wrigley or th’ best master that ever stood on two legs?”
The sheer audacity of the suggestion took my breath away. I glanced at Jim. His chop had fallen, his eyes were glued on Ruth, and he breathed heavily. Miriam had jumped up and flung her arms round Ruth’s neck, and was almost crying with delighted excitement.
“ ‘Rem acu tetigisti,’ ” quoth my father, “which in the vulgar tongue, means, ‘Thou hast touched the matter with a needle’s point.’ ”