“My stars and garters!” Billy exclaimed. “Business surely is brisk. Keep that up and you can afford to have a cat. I’ve brought you something.”
He opened the bag he carried and took a box out from it. “Hold out your two hands,—it’s heavy,” he warned.
In spite of his preparation, the box nearly fell to the floor—it was so much heavier than Maida expected. “What can be in it?” she cried excitedly. She pulled the cover off—then murmured a little “oh!” of delight.
The box was full—cram-jam full—of pennies; pennies so new that they looked like gold—pennies so many that they looked like a fortune.
“Gracious, what pretty money!” Maida exclaimed. “There must be a million here.”
“Five hundred,” Billy corrected her.
He put some tiny cylindrical rolls of paper on the counter. Maida handled them curiously—they, too, were heavy.
“Open them,” Billy commanded.
Maida pulled the papers away from the tops. Bright new dimes fell out of one, bright new nickels came from the other.
“Oh, I’m so glad to have nice clean money,” Maida said in a satisfied tone. She emptied the money drawer and filled its pockets with the shining coins. “It was very kind of you to think of it, Billy. I know it will please the children.” The thought made her eyes sparkle.