When Paddy was there bending over his ash heaps she didn't care, for every little while he would look up from his work, and wave his hand, and that was all she wanted.
Things got very desperate with the Paddys. Money became so scarce that they couldn't buy coal, but had to use half-burned cinders from the common instead. Peggy declared that they made a "real hot fire," and she would joke about their large coal cellar—meaning the common—"that never got empty—only fuller and fuller."
Paddy would come in shivering and shaking in his threadbare coat.
"And are you frozen entirely?" she would ask.
And he would answer: "I was mortal cold, but the sight of your gentle face has warmed my blood. Faith, it's better than all the fires!"
Whenever the sun came out she would make him take her to the window where she could warm herself in its rays. When her husband was working at the ash piles she would wave to him.
"On those days," said Paddy, "I always have luck. The people throw out more rags, and the cinders are in big lumps and only half burned."
Whenever he made a good find he waved his hand to her, but one day he waved both hands and his cap, and she knew he had been unusually fortunate.
He came straight in to show her. He had found a big silver dollar. It was tarnished and black from the flames, but it was a good one with a true ring.
"Whose can it be, I wonder!" exclaimed Peggy.