"They want some stuivers," cried Jasper. "Come, Polly and Phronsie, let us toss them some."
Whiz—spin—went the coins, to fall into the thick stubby grass on the bank. The children, stopping their song in mid-air, scrambled and sprawled all over each other in their efforts to secure the coveted money. So Jasper and Polly threw the bits next time in the other direction. Then there was a shout and a rush, and the same thing was repeated till only a tangle of arms and legs could be seen. But some one of them always got the money.
"Dear me! they've eyes just like birds!" exclaimed Parson Henderson; "to think of finding anything in that thick grass."
"Let them alone for that," laughed old Mr. King; "their wits are sharpened by practice."
"Look out, Phronsie!" exclaimed Jasper. "Your stuivers went into the water. Here, I'll hold you up, then you can throw it farther. There you go," swinging her to his shoulder. "Now, then"—he guided her hand, and away spun the coin.
"It did, it did," crowed Phronsie, from her high perch. "It did,
Jasper, go right straight down in the grass just like yours and
Polly's."
"So it did, Pet. Well, now, here is another."
"There's a little girl back there and she hasn't any," mourned
Phronsie. "Oh, dear, I want to give her some."
"To be sure," said Jasper. "Well, we must give her some, and that's a fact." The small girl kept on at a dog-trot along the bank, her eyes fixed on the wonderful people who tossed out such magic wealth, and holding out her arms and singing her shrill song. But when the money was thrown, she was always a bit too late, and the other children, scrambling and scuffling, had pounced upon it, and had made off with it.
"Here, you boys, keep away; you've had enough; we're going to give this to the little girl," Jasper shouted to them as they threw coin after coin.