"Dynamite!" exclaimed Ethel Brown, looking at her hand as she remembered that she had not been especially gentle when she tossed the contents of her brother's pocket into the fireplace.
"There is enough dynamite in a cartridge to make a sharp detonation but not enough to do any damage, unless, as happened here, there were two of them in a small space that was enclosed on three sides--"
"The trash was blown out on the floor of the room," interrupted Mr. Schuler.
"--by walls that were none too strong. With a wind such as last night's knocking down the chimney at the top and bricks setting dynamite cartridges into action below I only wonder that the old thing is standing at all this morning."
They gazed at it as if they expected the whole affair to fall before their eyes.
"I'll call up the brickmason and find out when he can come to examine it; he may have to rebuild the entire chimney."
Mr. Emerson was moving toward the hall where the telephone was when his eye fell on Elisabeth sitting contentedly on the floor close to the wall turning over and over something that gleamed.
"What have you got there, small blessing?" he asked, stooping to make sure that she was not intending to try the taste of whatever it might be.
"Hullo!" he cried, straightening himself. "Hullo!" and he held up his discovery before the astonished eyes of the group.
"It looks like a gold coin, Grandfather!" exclaimed Ethel Brown.