That's jest one thousand an' sixty dollars, as I make it." Simeon Holly, self-controlled man that he was, almost leaped from his chair.
"One thousand and sixty dollars!" he gasped.

Then, to David: "Boy, in Heaven's name, who are you ?" "I don't know--only David." The boy spoke wearily, with a grieved sob in his voice.

He was very tired, a good deal perplexed, and a little angry.

He wished, if no one wanted this gold, that he could take it upstairs again to the chimney cupboard; or, if they objected to that, that they would at least give it to him, and let him go away now to that beautiful music he was to hear, and to those kind people who were always to understand what he said when he played.
"Of course," ventured Perry Larson diffidently, "I ain't professin' ter know any great shakes about the hand of the Lord, Mr.Holly, but it do strike me that this 'ere gold comes mighty near bein' proverdential--fur you." Simeon Holly fell back in his seat.

His eyes clung to the gold, but his lips set into rigid lines.
"That money is the boy's, Larson.