"It might have been full," he muttered, "if I hadn't been obliged to pay away such a sight of money to that determined man. One thousand dollars! two hundred bright, sparkling coins! How many, many weary days it will take before I can supply their place. It was all but full. It wanted only ten more coins to make five thousand dollars. Oh gold, gold, gold! How beautiful you are! To me you are food and drink and clothing and friends and relations. I care for nothing but you."
While Peter was indulging in this soliloquy, he was engaged in counting the coins in the box.
The result of the count showed one less than he had anticipated.
The old man turned pale.
"Some one has robbed me," he muttered. "Or, perchance, I have counted wrong. I will go over it again."
This he did with eager haste and a feeling of nervous anxiety, and, to his no small dismay, the count resulted as before.
"They have taken my money!" exclaimed Peter, tearing his white hair in anguish. "They will make me a beggar, and I shall be reduced to want in my old age. Oh, oh!"
In the midst of his lamentations he suddenly discovered the missing coin, which had rolled away, without his observing it, to the opposite side of the room.
Chuckling with delight, he picked it up and replaced it in the box.