"Well, I'll tell you. It's my missionary-box. Now, Mr. John, how much do you think there was in it?"
"I have not the least idea."
"Well, there was six pounds nine and seven-pence three farthings." Miss Toosey's voice sank to an impressive whisper, and she stood still, looking at John as if he might be so overcome by surprise as to drop his bag and umbrella, or require support to prevent him from falling. But he only said,—
"You don't say so," in a very ordinary tone of voice.
"Six pounds nine and sevenpence three farthings," repeated Miss Toosey, emphasizing the six pounds, as if he had not appreciated the vastness of the sum.
"Ah!" said John; "I'm sure it does credit to you, Miss Toosey; who would have thought that 'Your change, with thanks' would have added up so. I am afraid you must have gone to sleep in church very often."
"But it could not have been that," went on Miss Toosey solemnly. "One pound nine and seven-pence three farthings were principally in coppers, and any sixpenny or fourpenny bits I could account for. But the five pounds were in a note, so it could not have been change or a fine."
"You must have slipped it in some day by chance with other money."
"No, for I never have notes. When I draw my money I always get it in gold, for I am always afraid of notes blowing into the fire or getting torn up. And, besides," went on Miss Toosey, "I am not so rich, Mr. John, that I could lose even sixpence without knowing it."
"It is very strange," said John.