For a good quarter of an hour by the big old eight-day clock in the corner did the boy work away, shaking the box till some coin or another was over the slit, and then operating with the knife-blade, trying and trying to get the piece of money up on edge so that it would drop through; and again and again, as the reward of his indefatigable perseverance, nearly succeeding, but never quite. For so sure as he pushed it up or tilted it down, the coin made a dash and glided away, making the drops of perspiration start out on the boy’s forehead, and forcing him into a struggle with his temper which resulted in his gaining the victory again, till that thin old half-crown was coaxed well into sight and forced flat against the knife-blade. The boy then began to manipulate the knife with extreme caution as he kept on making a soft purring noise, ah–h–h–h–ha! full of triumphant satisfaction, while a big curled-up tabby tom-cat, which had taken possession of the fellow chair to that occupied by Aleck, twitched one ear, opened one eye, and then seeing that the purring sound was only a feeble imitation, went off to sleep again.
“Got you at last!” muttered the lad. “Half a crown; just buy all I want, and—bother!” he yelled, and, raising the box on high with both hands, he dashed it down upon the slate hearth with all his might.
Temper had won this time. Aleck had suffered a disastrous defeat, and he sat there with his forehead puckered up, staring at the cat, which at the crash and its accompanying yell made one bound that carried it on to the sideboard, where with glowing eyes, flattened ears, arched back, and bottle-brush tail, it stood staring at the disturber of its rest.
“Well, I am a pretty fool,” muttered Aleck, starting out of his chair and listening for a few moments before stealing across the room to open the door cautiously and thrust out his head.
There was no sound to be heard, and the boy re-closed the door and went back to the hearth.
“I wonder uncle didn’t hear,” he muttered, stooping down. “I’ve done it now, and no mistake.”
As he spoke he picked the remains of the broken box from inside the fender.
“Smashed!” he continued. “Good job too. Shan’t have any more of that bother. How much is there? Let’s see!”
There was a small fire burning in the old-fashioned grate, and with a grim look the boy finished the destruction of the money-box by tearing it apart at the dovetailings and placing the pieces on the fire, where they caught at once, blazing up, while the lad hunted out and picked up the coins which lay scattered here and there.
“Three—four—five—and sixpence,” muttered the boy. “I thought there was more than that. Hullo! Where’s that thin old half-crown? Haven’t thrown it on the fire, have I? Oh, there you are!” he cried, ferreting it out of the fleeces of the thick dark-dyed sheepskin hearth-rug at his feet. “Eight shillings,” he continued, transferring his store to his pocket. “Well, I’m not obliged to spend it all. Money-box! Bother! I’m not a child now. Just as if I couldn’t take care of my money in my pocket.”