Mrs. Russell laughed absent-mindedly, for, in truth, her thoughts were on other things, and she was only half-listening to the child, which was a pity. “Yes, dear,” she said, “it is the only money shop I know of. Now you must not ask me any more questions, Jack. You distract me!”
But Jack had no more questions to ask.
The next day, as the cashier at the National Bank was busily adding up an endless column of figures, he was startled by hearing a voice which apparently came from nowhere.
No face appeared at the little window in the gilded grating, and yet a sweet, silvery voice was certainly saying, with great distinctness, “If you please, I should like to buy some money.”
He looked through the window and saw a small boy, carrying a bundle almost as big as himself.
“What can I do for you, my little man?” asked the cashier kindly.
“I should like to buy some money, please,” repeated Jack, very politely.
“Oh, indeed!” said the cashier, with a twinkle in his eye. “And how much money would you like, sir?”
“About a fousand dollars, I fink,” said Jack, promptly. (It does sometimes happen that big boys cannot pronounce “th” distinctly, but they are none the less big for that.)
“A thousand dollars!” repeated the cashier. “That’s a good deal of money, young gentleman!”