"Ugh! he got away," she said, opening her hand and letting the dirt drop through her fingers. The next moment she uttered a little cry of surprise. "I've got something, though," she exclaimed. "Look, Tim, it's money--it's a coin. Where do you suppose it came from? Perhaps it's good yet. If I can spend it, I'll go halves." The boy took the piece of money from her fingers. It was dull and tarnished; a little larger in size than a ten cent piece, but it was not silver. Tim Reardon looked at it intently and rubbed its sides on his trousers leg. "Say, Bess," he said earnestly, "do you know what I think--I guess it's gold. Yes, I do. 'Tisn't American money, though. It's got a queer head on it, see, a man with some sort of a thing on his head like a wreath. Oh, my, but that's too bad. Look, Bess, there's a hole been bored in it. P'raps you can't spend it." Near the edge, there was, in truth, a tiny depression, nearly obscured by dirt and corrosion, which seemed to indicate that the coin had at some time been pierced, as though it might have been worn by someone as an ornament. "Let's scrub it," said the girl. "Perhaps it'll brighten up, so we can see it better." They went in with it to the kitchen sink, where Bess Thornton, getting a basin of warm water and soap, proceeded to polish the coin with a small brush. It soon brightened sufficiently to reveal the unmistakable gleam of gold, and was a foreign coin of some sort, possibly of Austrian coinage; but the letters which it had borne, and the figures, had been worn much away; and one side was worn quite smooth, so as to give no clew to what had been stamped there. "Well, I can wear it, if I can't spend it," said Bess Thornton. "There's the hole to hang it by. Isn't it pretty?" "Isn't what pretty?" said a voice, suddenly interrupting them. Old Granny Thornton was peering over the girl's shoulder. "What are you two doing? What have you got there?" "See, gran'," replied the girl. "Look what we found. It's money, gran', and it's gold." The old woman took the coin in her thin fingers and held it up close to her eyes. Then she started and her hand shook tremulously. A pallor overspread her face. She sank back into a chair, staring at the coin, which she clutched tight as though it had some strange fascination that held her gaze. "Where did you get that?" she cried hoarsely. "Where was it?" "We dug it up just now, gran', out in the yard. Why, what's the matter? Can't I keep it? What makes you act so queer, gran'?" The old woman hesitated for a moment and seemed lost for a reply. Then she said, hurriedly: "No, girl--no, not now. You shall have it some day. You can't have it yet. It isn't time. You wore it once when you were little--but it was lost. Oh, how I've hunted for it! You'll get it again. I'll keep it safe, this time."