"Pray go on with your dinner," said the visitor, in a patronising tone.
The old woman poured a fresh cup of tea for her husband, diluted it plenteously with milk and coarse brown sugar, then replenished her own cup. At the moment when the old man was greedily gulping his portion down, Mrs. Vance put her hand into her pocket and drew out a netted purse of shining gold coin.
"Here is a hundred dollars I was fortunate enough to get for you," said she, handing it reluctantly over to the woman; "and you must understand that I cannot possibly get another penny for you before Christmas; so try and economize it the best you can."
Haidee gulped her tea down hurriedly as she clutched the purse, and the old man hurried around to his wife's side.
"Divide fair is my motto," said he. "Give me the purse, Haidee, and I will count it for you."
"No, you don't, old man," she answered, resolutely holding on to it while her husband's fingers worked eagerly. "I will count it myself! Not a coin will I ever see again if I trust this purse in your itching fingers!"
She poured out the shining mass upon the table and began to count it over carefully, but the sight of it was too much for the grasping soul of the old miser looking on. He thrust out his open claw-like fingers and hastily gathered the whole pile into his greedy clutch, except for one or two coins which escaped and rolled down upon the floor.
In an instant his wife sprang up and bounded upon him like a wild-cat.
There ensued a furious battle that defied description. Mrs. Vance retreated hurriedly to the door, and stood at a safe distance watching the couple as they fought over the gold that was clutched in Peter's fingers, placing him somewhat at a disadvantage, for Haidee, with both hands at liberty, pulled, and tore, and bit with the ferocity of a wild animal.