"Count my guineas?" cried Miss Merriam.
"Certainly they're your guineas. You're a direct descendant of Algernon and Patience. The bag and its contents belong to you."
Gertrude stared at Mr. Emerson as if she could not understand him.
"Mine?" she repeated, "mine?" but when Mr. Emerson insisted and the other elders congratulated her and the girls kissed her and Roger shook hands formally, she began, to realize that this little fortune really was hers by right and not through the kindness of her friends.
The count of the coins proved exact. There were 569 of them.
"Here are the two that fell on the floor when we were hammering," said Roger, laying them on the table. "They make 571."
"And here is the one that Ayleesabet found," added Mr. Emerson, drawing it from his pocket. "That is the five hundred and seventy-second. Young Vladimir's trophy has gone for good, I'm afraid. He must have sold it to some passer-by who knew enough to realize that it was a valuable coin and wasn't honest enough to hunt for the owner or to pay the child its full value."
"Every one of the 573 is accounted for, anyway," declared Roger. "You won't think it impertinent if I figure out how much you're worth, will you Miss Gertrude?"
"I shall be glad if you will," she answered.
"A guinea is 21 shillings and a shilling is about 24 cents in American money. That makes a guinea worth about $5.04. Five hundred-and-seventy-two times that makes $2882.88."