“Sent to you!” they exclaimed, in a chorus of protest and derision. And how, indeed, was I to make good my claim? The Peterses, when assembled, were a clan, led by Julia and in matters of controversy, moved as one. How was I to tell them that in answer to my prayers for twenty-five cents, God had deemed five all that was good for me?
“Some—somebody dropped it there for me.”
“Who?” demanded the chorus. “Say, that's a good one!”
Tears suddenly blinded me. Overcome by chagrin, I turned and flew into the house and upstairs into my room, locking the door behind me. An interval ensued, during which I nursed my sense of wrong, and it pleased me to think that the money would bring a curse on the Peters family. At length there came a knock on the door, and a voice calling my name.
“Hugh! Hugh!”
It was Tom.
“Hughie, won't you let me in? I want to give you the nickel.”
“Keep it!” I shouted back. “You found it.”
Another interval, and then more knocking.
“Open up,” he said coaxingly. “I—I want to talk to you.”