"Yes, 'tis, too. And it's fifty dollars. Now you needn't go 'n' tell Rod he no need to pay it, 'cause 'twas one of the family. I won't stand it if you do! I—"
"Stop your gabble!" interrupted the girl, imperatively. "Lift up your foot."
She took hold of the boy's arm as she spoke. A certain spark had come into her eye.
The foot was withdrawn. In a cleft between the stones, where the ivy leaves had hidden it, lay a ring. It was turned so that the stone could but just be seen.
She extended her hand, but it was promptly twitched away by her brother.
"None er that!" he cried. "I ain't goin' to let you pick it up; then you'll be wantin' to share in the fifty dollars. You can't do that,—not by a long streak. Here she goes!"
He stooped and then held up a ring between his finger and thumb. The sun struck it, and made the engraved carbuncle shine dully red.
"That's the very critter!" exclaimed Leander, triumphantly.
"Let me take it," said the girl.
She spoke shortly, and in a way that made the boy turn and look at her curiously. But he obeyed instantly. He laid the ring in the palm of her hand, thrust his own hands into his pockets, and stood gazing down at his sister.