jerk he began to work with his bony left hand at emptying the tin box before him.
“Missy,” he began to say, hurriedly, “look here! take the money—the notes and gold—look here—take it—you shall have it all—do as I tell you.”
He made an effort to stretch out the key towards her as far as possible, and Mary again retreated.
“I will not touch your key or your money, sir. Pray don’t ask me to do it again. If you do, I must go and call your brother.”
He let his hand fall, and for the first time in her life Mary saw old Peter Featherstone begin to cry childishly. She said, in as gentle a tone as she could command, “Pray put up your money, sir;” and then went away to her seat by the fire, hoping this would help to convince him that it was useless to say more. Presently he rallied and said eagerly—