That lady only exclaimed “Oh!” very loudly and looked aghast at the rolling coins. Jess half stooped to gather up the scattered money. Then she thought better of it and straightened up, looking straight into the face of the owner of the purse.
But old Mr. Chumley could not stand the lack of interest the others seemed to show in what—to him—was the phase of particular importance in the whole affair. There was real money rolling all over the Widow Morse’s kitchen. He went down on his rheumatic old knees and scrambled for it. Mr. Chumley worshipped money, anyway, and this was a worshipper’s rightful attitude.
“My, my, my!” he kept repeating. “How careless!”
But Mrs. Prentice’s expression of countenance was swiftly changing. She flushed deeply—much more deeply than had Jess; then she paled. She picked up Mr. Chumley’s phrase, although she allowed the old man to pick up the money.
“I certainly have been careless,” she said. “I—I must have nudged that purse off the counter with my elbow. I—I——My dear girl! will you forgive me?”
She stepped forward and opened her arms to Jess. She was not only a well dressed lady, but she was a handsome one, and her smile, when she chose to allow it to appear, was winning. The anger and indignation Jess had felt began to melt before this apology and the lady’s frank manner.
“I—I suppose it was a natural mistake,” stammered Jess.
“Not if she’d known you, Miss Jess,” Griff said, quite sharply for him. “Nobody who knew you or your mother would have accused you of taking a penny’s worth that didn’t rightfully belong to you.”
Jess, whose heart was still sore from the blow she had received at Mr. Closewick’s grocery, thought this was very kind of Griff. And they owed his father, too! If there were tears standing in her eyes they were tears of gratitude.
“You see, my dear,” said the lady, her voice very pleasant indeed now, “I did not know you as well as young Mr. Vandergriff seems to.”