"No, 'tisn't a nut," said Phronsie, still keeping it in her hand, and shaking her head decidedly, "and he was a naughty squirrel; he was in a bird's nest."
"In a bird's nest? What do you mean, and how could you see him?" demanded
Rachel, all three questions in one breath.
"We looked up," said little Dick, throwing his head back to illustrate his speech, "and he was right there "—pointing up to the highest branches of the apple tree—"way up on top."
"And the poor bird was screaming," said Phronsie, snuggling up to Rachel's side, but still not offering to give up the little green wad. "Poor little bird!—she made a new house, she added sorrowfully.
"And the naughty squirrel was pulling out all the things in her house," said little Dick, breaking in with gusto, "and flinging them down; and he threw us this. Show her, Phronsie."
So Phronsie opened her hand and held it up, the little green wad in the center.
"Oh, isn't it funny!" Rachel was going to say. Instead, she seized it, twitched it apart, and hopped up to her feet; then, deserting the two children, ran like lightning up the green bank, two torn bits of paper fluttering in her hand. And not observing where she went, she ran directly into old Mr. King taking a constitutional on the lawn.
"Bless me! what is it?" he gasped, putting out a strong hand to save her from a fall.
"It's the ten-dollar bill!" panted Rachel. "Don't you see?"—waving it at him.