e that to be had, but never another coin of the kind
seen about these parts. Oh, but you've gone and done it. Don't you know
that coin meant luck for you, girl? You might have gone to the big house
to live some day; but you'll never go now. You've lost the luck. You're
bad--bad. There's no making you mind. Give me the chain."

Her voice grew more harsh and angry. "Let the coin go," she said.
"You've lost it, and you can suffer for it. You'll not go out of this
house again to-day."

Puzzled at her strange words, and hurt at the scolding, Bess Thornton
sat sullenly. "I'll get it back to-morrow, if I can't to-day," she said.
"I'm going to dive for it."

"You keep away from the water, do you hear?" replied Granny Thornton;
but, a half-hour later, she seemed to have changed her mind. "Go and get
it, if you can," she said, shortly. "Change that dress--and don't get
drowned."

But Little Tim, in the mean time, had not been idle. Hastily throwing
off his clothing, he dived again and again into the deep pool, swimming
to the bottom and groping about there. He brought up handfuls of sticks
and small stones, and the debris of the water's bed. A dozen times he
was unsuccessful--and then, at last, as he clung to the bank and opened
his fist for the water to thin the mud and ooze that he had clutched,
there lay the golden coin, bright and shining in his palm.

He scrambled out, had his clothes on in a twinkling, dropped the coin
into one of his pockets, and started off on a run down the road.

Perhaps old Granny Thornton had been right, however, when she exclaimed
that there was a fate in the mysterious foreign piece; for when Tim
Reardon reached his hand into his pocket presently, to see that the coin
was safe--lo, it had once more disappeared. Little Tim, with a look of
chagrin, turned his pocket inside out. A tell-tale hole in one corner
accounted for the disappearance. Tim, muttering his disgust, slowly
retraced his steps, kicking away the dust with his bare feet.

He was still searching for the coin when Bess Thornton returned. They
were both searching for it an hour later. But the coin was lost.

"I'm awful sorry," said Tim, as they finally relinquished the search.
"I'll tell you what, though. It's my fault, and I've got a dollar and
sixty cents left at home, and I'll give you that."

The girl shook her head sadly. "I wouldn't take it," she replied.

Two hours later, Benny Ellison, strolling homeward, with gun over
s