One hundred and six were surely enough to give him a "start." A start! David closed his eyes and pictured it.

To go on with his violin, to hear good music, to be with people who understood what he said when he played! That was what Mr.Jack had said a "start" was.

And this gold--these round shining bits of gold--could bring him this! David swept the little piles into a jingling heap, and sprang to his feet with both fists full of his suddenly beloved wealth.

With boyish glee he capered about the room, jingling the coins in his hands.

Then, very soberly, he sat down again, and began to gather the gold to put away.
He would be wise--he would be sensible.