"It dashed by so quickly, I had not time to notice it," replied Grandma Eaton, looking over her glasses down the turf-striped country road after the rapidly departing carriage. "I wonder whose it can be? There! it has stopped. What is that for, Ella, child?"
"I don't know, Grandma, dear; but I think something about the harness has given way. See! the horses are dancing and prancing. The gentleman has jumped from the carriage. He has taken something from his pocket. It looks like a knife. Oh, yes!"
"I had good eyes once, but they have served their day," sighed Grandma Eaton.
"The horses are quiet, now," went on Ella, who had not once taken her observant eyes from a spectacle so unusual for that quiet neighborhood. "Now the strap is mended, I think, and everything is all right," added the child with a little sigh of regret; and as the gentleman drove swiftly on, she left the window and skipped out to the edge of the road, to see the fine horses prance away.
"I guessed rightly, Grandma, dear!" cried Ella as she came running back from the scene of the accident. "It was a broken strap, for here is a piece, almost torn in two, that was cut off. And here is a penny I found right under it; a bright, new penny—as yellow as gold!"
"This is no penny," said the woman, taking the shining coin in her own hand and looking at it closely; "it is an eagle. I know an eagle when I see one, although I have not had one of my own for many a day."
"Ten mills make one cent, ten cents make one dime, ten dimes make one dollar, ten dollars make one eagle! A golden eagle! Oh, how much good it will do us!" exclaimed the little girl as she glanced at her grandmother's thin shawl and at the scant belongings of their humble home.
"We are not to think of that," said Grandma Eaton, speaking so decidedly that a flush overspread her thin, worn face. "The coin belongs to the gentleman who just dropped it; and I do not doubt that a way will be opened for it to be returned to its owner. Those who seek to do right seldom lack opportunity. Cinderella's horses and carriage pass this way too seldom to escape notice, and probably some of our neighbors will be able to tell us to whom they belong."
But all the men in the quiet, out-of-the-way neighborhood had been at town-meeting that afternoon, and none of the women folk, excepting Grandma Eaton and little Ella, had seen the fine sight. They would have remembered it almost as the figment of a dream, had it not been for the bright ten-dollar gold piece laid away in cotton in Grandma Eaton's best china tea-pot, on the top shelf of the parlor cupboard.
On the very next Monday morning after this episode, that same glossy-haired, blue-eyed Ella, with grandma's thin shawl pinned about her shoulders, made one of a bevy of girls who, with arms full of books, slates, and lunch-baskets, were drawing near a plain little brown school-house, standing in the shade of a tall, plumy pine-tree on a sandy hillside that was supposed to be exactly in the center of the Pine Meadow school-district.