now it. His black temper won't last. He will come for her, and
claim her."

"He shall have money." Rhoda said no more.

On a side-table in the room stood a remarkable pile, under cover of a
shawl. Robert lifted the shawl, and beheld the wooden boxes, one upon
the other, containing Master Gammon's and Mrs. Sumfit's rival savings,
which they had presented to Dahlia, in the belief that her husband was
under a cloud of monetary misfortune that had kept her proud heart from
her old friends. The farmer had brought the boxes and left them there,
forgetting them.

"I fancy," said Robert, "we might open these."

"It may be a little help," said Rhoda.

"A very little," Robert thought; but, to relieve the oppression of
the subject they had been discussing, he forthwith set about procuring
tools, with which he split first the box which proved to be Mrs.
Sumfit's, for it contained, amid six gold sovereigns and much silver
and pence, a slip of paper, whereon was inscribed, in a handwriting
identified by Rhoda as peculiar to the loving woman,--

"And sweetest love to her ever dear."

Altogether the sum amounted to nine pounds, three shillings, and a
farthing.

"Now for Master Gammon--he's heavy," said Robert; and he made the
savings of that unpretentious veteran bare. Master Gammon had likewise
written his word. It was discovered on the blank space of a bit of
newspaper, and looked much as if a fat lobworm had plunged himself into
a bowl of ink, and in his literary delirium had twisted uneasily to the
verge of the paper. With difficulty they deciphered,--

"Complemens."

Robert sang, "Bravo, Gammon!" and counted the hoard. All was in
copper coinage, Lycurgan and severe, and reached the sum of one pound,
seventeen shillings. There were a number of farthings of Queen Anne's
reign, and Robert supposed them to be of value. "So that, as yet, we
can't say who's the winner," he observed.

Rhoda was in tears.

"Be kind to him, please, when you see him," she whispered. The smaller
gift had touched her heart more tenderly.

"Kind to the old man!" Robert laughed gently, and tied the two hoards in
separate papers, which he stowed into one box, and fixed under string.
"This amount, put all in one, doesn't go far, Rhoda."

"No," said she: "I hope we may not need it." She broke out: "Dear, good,
humble friends! The poor are God's own people. Christ has said so.
This is good, this is blessed money!" Rhoda's cheeks flu