Instead, Morton said more hopefully, "But, Sara, perhaps this isn't all
there was. She might have hid it in two or three places."
Sara shook her head dubiously; such wisdom was more than she could hope
for in the young mother.
"No, Morton, I don't believe there would be enough to divide. We must
look this trouble squarely in the face."
"But, Sara," persisted the boy, "Jap Norris always says father's the
most forehanded among them all, and rich for a fisherman. You know he
never spends a cent for grog."
"Yes, Morton, I know. Poor father! it's too bad, when he works so hard
for us!" and for the first time tears trembled on her eyelashes. Then,
dashing them bravely away, "Well, what's done can't be undone. O baby,
baby! if you knew the mischief your bits of hands have done!" holding
them up, and spatting them gently together till he crowed with delight.
"But come, Molly dear, where are those nice fried potatoes we're to have
for supper? 'There's no use in crying for spilt milk,' you know."
Molly gave a last sob, then looked up with the sun breaking through her
tears. "Burnt money's worse'n spilt milk, Sara; but I'll tell you what,
when the coddies are all gone, I'll go lobster-catching, can't I? It's
awful fun!"
There were few circumstances in life out of which Molly could not
extract "fun" in some shape.
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