This had well nigh been the case with the carpenter. Seven hundred forty-two dollars and eighty-one cents, the sum total of her money in the world that she hid in a filigreed cigar box shelved behind her schoolbooks. Sampans with fish and fruit and vegetables swarmed about, while overhead gulls wheeled and swooped and circled. “I had a dream in the night,” she said. Austin was dismissing a host of inquirers who had been attracted thither by the news,—for it had already been extensively noised abroad. It was impulsive and natural. After all, old P.
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