"Come, old lady, you're puttin' on airs. I won't have it. Do you hear me? I say I won't have it!" and the wretched fellow pounded on the table fiercely with his fist.
Just then, most unluckily, Grace started, and let the gold piece, which she had been holding firmly in her hand, fall on the floor.
Her brother espied it, and his eyes gleamed with drunken joy.
"Ho, ho!" he said. "Gold pieces rollin' 'round! You're mighty poor, ain't you? That's just what I need."
He got up from the chair, and approaching Grace, who by this time had picked up the gold, seized her roughly by the arm, and exclaimed:
"Give me that gold piece, young one, or I'll wring your neck!"
Grace shrank and cowered under his brutal grasp, but still clutched the money, though pale with terror.
"It's mine!" she said. "You sha'n't have it."
"We'll see!" said the ruffian, tightening his grasp and shaking her roughly.