The kind fellow gave her an encouraging glance. “Don’t you worry,” he said. “If we can’t do one way we’ll do another. If we can’t unlock the door we’ll have to break open the bank. Are you willing?”
Polly nodded eagerly. “Yes, oh yes!” she quivered.
“Well, come along then,” returned James and led the way down-stairs. Polly following dumbly. She could hardly wait while he got from his tool-chest the things he needed and set to work. Once, twice, three times the heavy hammer fell, and then, with a cry of joy, Polly made a dash toward the shattered bank and gathered up the stream of coins that poured out of it.
“Oh, James, I thank you ever so much,” she cried gratefully.
“Hadn’t you better count your money,” suggested the butler sensibly. “Are you sure there’s enough here? It takes a good many pennies and nickles to make five dollars, you know.”
The next moment he was almost sorry he had spoken when he saw all the brightness vanish from her face as quickly as it had come there. But she did not stop to lament.
“Take half, please,” she said, “and count it and I’ll count the other part and then we’ll add what we’ve both got.”
Poor James! He was not, as he himself admitted, “a lightening calculator,” and his progress was very slow, so that Polly had announced: “One dollar and sixteen cents,” while he was still stumbling over, “A quarter—and ten cents: that makes thirty-five! And five more: that makes forty,” and so on. Would he never get done? Would he never say, “One dollar!” Suppose there were not enough!
“One dollar!” announced James triumphantly, and Polly’s heart beat fast for he still held quite a little heap of coins that were uncounted. It was a great trial of patience to stand there and wait and wait, when so much was at stake. Polly wanted to jump up and down and cry: “Hurry! Hurry!” to urge him on, but she shut her teeth hard and kept the words back.