thoughtfully,--meditating what words I should say when I took my last
farewell of the Greenes. But as I walked I could see what occurred.
Mrs. Greene opened the box, and displayed to view the ample folds of a
huge yellow woollen dressing-down. I could fancy that she would not
willingly have exhibited this article of her toilet, had she not felt
that its existence would speedily be merged in the presence of the
glories which were to follow. This had merely been the padding at the
top of the box. Under that lay a long papier-mache case, and in that
were all her treasures. "Ah, they are safe," she said, opening the
lid and looking upon her tawdry pearls and carbuncles.

Mr. Greene, in the mean time, well knowing the passage for his hand,
had dived down to the very bottom of the box, and seized hold of a
small canvas bag. "It is here," said he, dragging it up, "and as far
as I can tell, as yet, the knot has not been untied." Whereupon he
sat himself down by Sophonisba, and employing her to assist him in
holding them, began to count his rolls. "They are all right," said
he; and he wiped the perspiration from his brow.

I had not yet made up my mind in what manner I might best utter my
last words among them so as to maintain the dignity of my character,
and now I was standing over against Mr. Greene with my arms folded on
my breast. I had on my face a frown of displeasure, which I am able
to assume upon occasions, but I had not yet determined what words I
would use. After all, perhaps, it might be as well that I should
leave them without any last words.

"Greene, my dear," said the lady, "pay the gentleman his ten
napoleons."