“Dear child, I am so glad you are home,” said Ruth, as Katy opened the door; “I began to fear something had happened to you. Did you see your grandfather?”
“Oh, mother!” exclaimed Katy, “please never send me to my grandpa again; he said we ‘should get away all the money he had,’ and he looked so dreadful when he said it, that it made my knees tremble. Is it stealing, mamma, for us to take grandpa’s money away?”
“No,” replied Ruth, looking a hue more pallid, if possible, than before, “No, no, Katy, don’t cry; you shall never go there again for money. But, where is your bag? Why! what’s this, Katy. Grandpa has made a mistake. You must run right back as quick as ever you can with this money, or I’m afraid he will be angry.”
“Oh, grandpa didn’t give me that,” said Katy; “a gentleman gave me that.”
“A gentleman?” said Ruth. “Why it is money, Katy. How came you to take money from a gentleman? Who was he?”
“Money!” exclaimed Katy. “Money!” clapping her hands. “Oh! I’m so glad. He didn’t say it was money; he said it was something he owed papa;” and little Katy picked up a card from the floor, on which was pencilled, “For the children of Harry Hall, from their father’s friend.”
“Hush,” whispered Katy to Nettie, “mamma is praying.”