"Humph! Ready they was, fast enough. But—man, look here," and she opened the cupboard door to draw forth the apron of gold.
"No, you shan't! He shan't touch it! It's mine—it's mine!" cried Fayette, and snatched the bundle from her hands. He had not tied it securely, and again the long-buried coins rolled into the sunlight and spread themselves over the floor.
"To the—land's—sake!"
"They're mine—they're all mine—every single one. I found 'em. I blasted 'em out. Nobody shall touch them—nobody!"
"You—blasted them—out? From the cellar of this house? You—simpleton!"
"Like to ha' done it yourself, hey?"
"No; but I'm sorrier than I can tell that ever you were let to fool with powder. How'd Mister Frederic allow it?"
Cleena answered promptly, "He didn't. He strict forbid it. Yes, I know, I know. It was a chance. If me guardian angel hadn't been nigh, you might never ha' seen old Cleena again. Arrah musha, but I'm that shook up I'd know! What say? Is it time yet for their supper down yon, or what?"
"It'll be a little late, maybe, but never mind. My, my! Chests o' gold! Who'd believe it? Like a story book, now, ain't it? And where, in the name of common sense, did you get all this flour and meat an' fixings, Cleena, woman?"