"I do mean to keep it. Do you think I have run all this risk for nothing? Give me the pocketbook."
"Don't think of such a thing as keeping it, father," pleaded Lawry.
"I'm going to be rich," replied the father doggedly.
"You know what mother said about making haste to be rich: 'Haste makes waste.'"
"It will make waste if you don't give me the pocket-book."
"Mr. Randall will not be satisfied till he gets his money, and you will certainly be found out."
"No, I shall not be found out. I'll go to New York and change off the money this very night."
"But only think of it, father. You will be a thief. You never will have a moment's peace as long as you live."
"I never did have, and I shall not be any worse off," said Mr. Wilford coldly. "There comes your steamer. She hasn't got any pilot on board; I know by the way she steers. You had better go and see to her, for she is running right for the Goblins."
Lawry glanced at the Woodville, as she appeared rounding a point, two miles distant.