"Six hands and two fingers over and each finger a peso!" he murmured thoughtfully.

"And each peso, how many cuartos ?" "A hundred and sixty." "A hundred and sixty cuartos?
A hundred and sixty times a cuarto?
Goodness! And how many are a hundred and sixty ?" "Thirty-two hands," answered the older.
Crispin looked hard at his little hands.

"Thirty-two hands," he repeated, "six hands and two fingers over and each finger thirty-two hands and each finger a cuarto--goodness, what a lot of cuartos! I could hardly count them in three days; and with them could be bought shoes for our feet, a hat for my head when the sun shines hot, a big umbrella for the rain, and food, and clothes for you and mother, and--" He became silent and thoughtful again.
"Now I'm sorry that I didn't steal!" he soon exclaimed.
"Crispin!" reproached his brother.
"Don't get angry! The curate has said that he'll beat me to death if the money doesn't appear, and if I had stolen it I could make it appear.

Anyhow, if I died you and mother would at least have clothes.

Oh, if I had only stolen it!" The elder pulled on the rope in silence.