Well, now here 't is.

Mr.Holly can't pay, an' so Streeter will put up the farm fur sale." "What, with Mr.and Mrs.Holly LIVING here ?" "Sure! Only they'll have ter git out, ye know." "Where'll they go ?" "The Lord knows; I don't." "And is THAT what they're crying for--in there ?--because they've got to go ?" "Sure!" "But isn't there anything, anywhere, that can be done to--stop it ?" "I don't see how, kid,--not unless some one ponies up with the money 'fore next Sat'day,--an' a thousand o' them things don't grow on ev'ry bush," he finished, gently patting the coin in his hand.
At the words a swift change came to David's face.

His cheeks paled and his eyes dilated in terror.

It was as if ahead of him he saw a yawning abyss, eager to engulf him.
"And you say--MONEY would--fix it ?" he asked thickly.
"Ex-ACT-ly!--a thousand o' them, though, 't would take." A dawning relief came into David's eyes--it was as if he saw a bridge across the abyss.
"You mean--that there wouldn't ANYTHING do, only silver pieces--like those ?" he questioned hopefully.
"Sugar, kid, 'course there would! Gosh, but you BE a checkerboard o' sense an' nonsense, an' no mistake! Any money would do the job--any money! Don't ye see?
Anything that's money." "Would g-gold do it ?" David's voice was very faint now.
"Sure!--gold, or silver, or greenbacks, or--or a check, if it had the dough behind it." David did not appear to hear the last.

With an oddly strained look he had hung upon the man's first words; but at the end of the sentence he only murmured, "Oh, thank you," and turned away.