"The Lord knows; I don't."
"And is THAT what they're crying for—in there?—because they've got to go?"
"Sure!"
"But isn't there anything, anywhere, that can be done to—stop it?"
"I don't see how, kid,—not unless some one ponies up with the money 'fore next Sat'day,—an' a thousand o' them things don't grow on ev'ry bush," he finished, gently patting the coin in his hand.
At the words a swift change came to David's face. His cheeks paled and his eyes dilated in terror. It was as if ahead of him he saw a yawning abyss, eager to engulf him.
"And you say—MONEY would—fix it?" he asked thickly.
"Ex-ACT-ly!—a thousand o' them, though, 't would take."
A dawning relief came into David's eyes—it was as if he saw a bridge across the abyss.
"You mean—that there wouldn't ANYTHING do, only silver pieces—like those?" he questioned hopefully.