ll some one. Then, as a thought struck her, she ran back to the
house, looked up to the second story and saw a smiling face, and then
set off again, running down the street for John.

Not seeing him, she stopped at the next corner and examined her coin
lovingly. Then she looked up at _that_ corner window and began to sing
again.

But this time her reward came from the street. Three bluejackets were
walking down the street to the Quay, lurching over the pavement as they
walked. The child's song touched and stirred that latent sentimentality
of theirs.

Her "or _surely_ I shall die," brought a silver threepence from one of
them, and a copper from each of the others.

Betty felt wealthy now, beyond the dreams of avarice. She had made a
shilling in an hour!

She looked at the post office clock high up in the air there above her
head, and it informed her that it was only a quarter past seven. Not
eight o'clock yet! And she had made a shilling! Twelve pennies! As much
as she received in six months by staying at home!

She sat down on the kerbstone to count her money, putting her feet in
the dry gutter _a la maniere_ born. She made first of all a stack of her
half-pennies, and then of her pennies. There were nine half-pennies,
three pennies, a threepenny bit and a sixpence. The grand total she
found was one and fourpence halfpenny. More than even John had started
out with.

While she was thus like a small miser counting her money, a hand swooped
suddenly down upon the heap of coppers and swept them away. Betty looked
up to scream, but it was only John. And he warned her solemnly how
easily such a dreadful theft could be committed.

"I wish to goodness the shops would open," he said discontentedly. "I'm
beginning to want some breakfast, I can tell you."

Betty unfolded her hands and displayed her wealth of coin. "A shilling
in an hour," she said, and John's look of surprised unbelief delighted
her.

"You picked it up!" he said.

"Oh, I didn't!" cried Betty. "People gave it to me just for singing! A
shilling an hour! I forget how much Madam S---- makes in an hour. I
think its more than a pound!"

"Don't you want your breakfast?" asked John.

"Let's count how many hours in a day," said Betty, twisting about to see
a clock, the high post office clock they were walking under now, and
found it. "I want to make my fortune quickly and go home and surprise
them. How much money is in a fortune, John?"

John considered