“Oh, that was it!” exclaimed Mr. Conway, “Well, and why do you let the child keep the money? She’ll lose it. Take it from her.”
“It belongs to her. She will not lose it.”
“Yes, she will. Nelly, give that money to your mamma.”
But Nelly doubled her fist over it, and hid her hand under the table.
“Do you hear what I say?” cried Mr. Conway.
“Why will you not let her keep it?” asked Dolly.
“Am I master here or not?” shouted Mr. Conway. “Give that money to your mother, child!”
Nelly began to whimper, terrified by the man’s voice, but loath to surrender her little treasure. He stepped up to her, whipped the little hand from under the cloth, and forcing the shilling from it, put it into his pocket.
“Though I’m a beggar by my own folly,” he exclaimed, walking to the door, “I’ll not be insulted and defied by the beggars I have brought about me.”
His fingers were in his pocket, and it seemed as though he would pull the money out and fling it on the table. But second thoughts prevailed; he jerked his hat on his head, and marched out of the house, banging the door after him.