"Slightly involved," Uncle Godfrey remarked, laughing.
"What can the darling be bringing me?" Granny said, roused a little from the abstraction into which she had fallen.
She was not long left in doubt, for almost as she asked the question Chris returned, holding aloft a little, bright, red leather purse, the pride and joy of his heart. Opening it, he went back to Granny's side and showered its contents upon her lap—two halfpennies and four pennies, a sixpenny and a threepenny bit, and a bright farthing.
"It's all for you, my Granny, 'cause I'm going away," he said impulsively; "all for you! The golden farthing and everything?"
"No, no, my pet; I won't take it from you," answered Granny, much moved by this great gift.
"Yes, but you must, my Granny; it's all for you," he repeated, with a fleeting glance of regret at the red purse in its splendour.
"My darling, I won't take it all," she said, replacing the money in the purse, and putting it into his pocket—all save the "golden farthing", which she kept. "But, see, I will keep this as a keepsake from my own dear child."
"Yes, Granny; and you'll never spend it," Chris said seriously. "You'll keep it for always."
"For always, my Chris," she said tenderly, with a pathetic little tremble in her voice as she kissed him.
And now the dog-cart came round to the door, and we all went out into the hall.