She counted it and recounted it and made little piles of it, and rubbed the gold pieces between the folds of her apron until they shone.
"Ah, yes, ten dollars is all I can afford to give Mac," said Trina, "and even then, think of it, ten dollars--it will be four or five months before I can save that again.

But, dear old Mac, I know it would make him feel glad, and perhaps," she added, suddenly taken with an idea, "perhaps Mac will refuse to take it." She took a ten-dollar piece from the heap and put the rest away.

Then she paused: "No, not the gold piece," she said to herself.

"It's too pretty.

He can have the silver." She made the change and counted out ten silver dollars into her palm.