“Three t’ousand of the dollars it was. All gold. Big gold and littles ones. In them bags was lost entirely. In the others––I don’t know. Oh! I don’t know. It was much, much!”
It was Wolfgang’s turn to interpose, and he did so, sternly:
“Elsa, wife! Three thousand dollars, and I not know it! How dare you?”
“Ach! how not dare I? It was the new pick, or the new pushcart, or the new everything, is it not so? Well, then, if one would save one need not tell.”
Mrs. Trent’s face saddened, and, seeing this, Jessica impatiently exclaimed:
“Oh, I hate money! It’s always that which makes the trouble. It was about money that those New York folks made such wicked charges against my father. It was for a little money that you ‘boys’ were so quick to ruin ‘Forty-niner’s’ character. It was money, and the greed for it, that changed Antonio from a good to a bad man.”
“Hold on, captain. There wasn’t ever any ‘change’ in him. He was born that way.”
“He was born a baby, wasn’t he, John? All babies are good, I s’pose. It’s loving money has made Ferd do such dreadful things; and now, over a little money, Wolfgang and Elsa are quarreling, though I never heard them speak crossly to each other before. Oh, I hate it! Give it all back to her, mother dear, and let us forget all that Pedro said. I, for my part, hope his old copper mine will never be dug out.”
Some who heard her laughed, but the mother grew even graver than at first, and looked searchingly into her daughter’s face. Again there came to her mind the consciousness that the little girl was growing up in a strange fashion; seeming both too wise and too simple for her years. It could never be any different at Sobrante, where one and all conspired to spoil her, though innocently enough, and from pure affection. How could she, single-handed, combat these hurtful influences?