"Where didst get it?" she asked sharply.
"At the end of the rainbow."
"Rainbow! fiddlesticks! Give it to me."
Lucy dropped the coin into the outstretched hand without a word. But she stood looking down, her eyes fierce and more like the old woman's than Barbara's were, although in face and figure there was no other resemblance.
"Where didst get it?" again asked Mistress Lynn.
"It fell out of the rug."
"Ah! I sold some sheep to a man from the South yesterday. I thought he had paid me short money—they're such cheats in the South! Well, well, it must have dropped out of his hand. Thee shall have a shilling come Good Friday, Lucy."
"A shilling!" Lucy was scornful, "a shilling!"
Mistress Lynn looked narrowly at her great-granddaughter. Between the girl and her little love was lost.
"What ails thee at a shilling? It's over much when I come to think of it. Thee shall have sixpence. That's enough for a young lass to spend on fallals."