It was a neat
pile of greenbacks, laid out straight and trim, with a paper band pinned
around them. Sara looked, comprehended, and felt like falling on her
knees in repentant gratitude!
But, instead, she sprang towards him, and caught the package from his
hands. Twice she counted it; could it be possible? Here were three
hundred dollars; a sum that seemed like a fortune to the girl.
Three hundred dollars between them and suffering; and the Thing up aloft
became instantly a Friend, a Father, and a God!
Molly, attempting a pirouette with the baby, now stumbled amid the
_debris_, and for an instant distracted Sara's attention, as she
sprang to steady her, and catch the imperilled little one from her
irresponsible arms, and Morton remarked hesitantly,--
"Say, Sara, I guess I wasn't feeling just right about things, and I
declare this makes me sort of ashamed!"
"Ashamed? Pshaw! Well, it doesn't me!" cried Molly, dancing about. "Now
I can have a new dress, and some shoes--
"'Way hay, storm along, John,
Old Stormy, he'"--
"Molly! Molly! How often must I tell you not to sing those coarse sailor
songs? Now, do sit down, before you cut your feet on this glass. Morton,
you see poor mother did divide that money, after all.
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