Maggie stared in wonder. Then her whole face lighted up. "Lucky stars!" she cried gleefully, her eyes on the shining coins. "T'ank lucky stars!" And she turned and ran with all her small might toward the house. "Quick--come--let us go," begged Margaret, "before the mother sees--the money!" And Brandon, smiling indulgently at the generosity that was so fearful of receiving thanks, lost no time in putting a long stretch of roadway between themselves and the tall, gaunt woman behind them. CHAPTER XVII "Stars--t'ank lucky stars," Maggie was still shouting gleefully when she reached her mother's side. Mrs. Durgin bent keen eyes on her young daughter's face. "Maggie, what was they sayin' to ye?" she began, pulling the little girl into the house. Suddenly her jaw dropped. She stooped and clutched the child's hands. "Why, Maggie, it's money--stacks of it!" she exclaimed, prying open the small fingers. "Stars--lucky stars!" cooed Maggie. Maggie liked new words and phrases, and she always said them over and over until they were new no longer. Mrs. Durgin shook her daughter gently, yet determinedly. Her small black eyes looked almost large, so wide were they with amazement. "Maggie, Maggie, tell me--what did they say to ye?" she demanded again. "Why did they give ye all this money?" Maggie was silent. Her brow was drawn into a thoughtful frown. "But, Maggie, think--there must 'a' been somethin'. What did ye do?" "There wa'n't," insisted the child. "I jest felled down an' got up, an' they said it." "Said what?" "'T'ank lucky stars.'" A sudden thought sent a quick flash of fear to Mrs. Durgin's eyes. "Maggie, they didn't hurt ye," she cried, dropping on her knees and running swift, anxious fingers over the thin little arms and legs and body. "They didn't hurt ye!" Maggie shook her head. At that moment a shadow darkened the doorway, and the kneeling woman glanced up hastily. "Oh, it's you, Mis' Magoon," she said to the small, tired-looking woman in the doorway. "Yes, it's me," sighed the woman, dragging herself across the room to a chair. "What time did Nellie leave here?" "Why, I dunno--mebbe four o'clock. Why?" The woman's face contracted with a sharp spasm of pain. "She wa'n't within half a mile of the mill when I met her, yet she was pantin' an' all out o' breath then. She'll be late, 'course, an' you know what that means." "Yes, I know," sighed Mrs. Durgin, sympathetically. "She--she hadn't orter gone." Across the room Mrs. Magoon's head came up with a jerk. "Don't ye s'pose I know that? The child's sick, an' I know it. But what diff'rence does that make? She works, don't she?" For a moment Mrs. Durgin did not speak. Gradually her eyes drifted back to Maggie and the little pile of coins on the table.