"I think she was a selfish pig,--don't you?"

"No, I don't, sir; and I'm sure that little boy wasn't such a fool as
to lose the money. He minded his grandma's wishes, and kept it all."

"No, he didn't," roared Toady, tumbling off his chair in great
excitement. "He just threw it out a winder, and smashed the old
cherakin all to bits."

Aunt Kipp dropped her work with a shrill squeak, for she thought the
boy was dangerous, as he stood before her, sparring away at nothing as
the only vent for his indignation.

"It isn't an interesting story," he cried; "and I won't hear any more;
and I won't have your money if I mayn't go halves with Polly; and I'll
work to earn more than that, and we'll all be jolly together, and you
may give your twenty thousand to the old rag-bags, and so I tell you,
Aunt Kipp."

"Why, Toady, my boy, what's the matter?" cried a mild voice at the
door, as young Lamb came trotting up to the rescue.

"Never you mind, Baa-baa; I shan't do it; and it's a mean shame Polly
can't have half; then she could marry you and be so happy," blubbered
Toady, running to try to hide his tears of disappointment in the
coat-skirts of his friend.

"Mr. Lamb, I suppose you _are_ that misguided young man?" said Aunt
Kipp, as if it was a personal insult to herself.