“‘He’ll look sorry now, I’ll be bound,’ said the old man. ‘I say, William!—take this red cent back to that boy, and tell him to be off with it, and not to show his face here again.’
“The command was strictly obeyed; and my new owner after a vain attempt to move the waiter, carried me into the street and sat down on the next door-step. Never in my life have I felt so grieved at being only a red cent, as then.
“The boy turned me over and over, and looked at me and read my date with a bewildered air, as if he did not know what he was doing; and I alas, who could have testified to his honesty, had no voice to speak.
“At length he seemed to comprehend his loss; for dropping me on the pavement he sank his head on his hands, and the hot tears fell fast down from his face upon mine. Then, in a sudden passion of grief and excitement he caught me up and threw me from him as far as he could; and I, who had been too proud to associate with red cents, now fell to the very bottom of an inglorious heap of mud. As I lay there half smothered, I could hear the steps of the boy, who soon repenting of his rashness now sought me—inasmuch as I was better than nothing; but he sought in vain. He couldn’t see me and I couldn’t see him, especially as there was little but lamplight to see by, and he presently walked away.
“I am not good at reckoning time,” said the red cent, “but I should think I might have lain there about a week—the mud heap having in the mean time changed to one of dust; when a furious shower arose one afternoon, or I should rather say came down; and not only were dust and mud swept away, but the rain even washed my face for me, and left me almost as bright as ever high and dry upon a clean paving-stone.
“I felt so pleased and refreshed with being able to look about once more, that what next would become of me hardly cost a thought; and very wet and shiny I lay there, basking in the late sunshine.”
“I thought you said you were high and dry?” said Carl.
“That is a phrase which we use,” replied the red cent. “I was high and dry in one sense,—quite lifted above the little streams of water that gurgled about among the paving-stones, though the rain-drops were not wiped off my face; and as I lay there I suddenly felt myself picked up by a most careful little finger and thumb, which had no desire to get wet or muddy. They belonged to a little girl about ten years old.
“‘You pretty red cent!’ she said, admiringly,—‘how bright and nice you do look! and how funny it is that I should find you—I never found anything before. I wonder how you came here—I hope some poor child didn’t lose you.’