hin
twenty minutes she had sold it to the dealer in second-hand furniture,
returning to her room with seven dollars in her pocket, happy for the
first time since McTeague had left her.

But for all that the match-box and the bag refused to fill up; after
three weeks of the most rigid economy they contained but eighteen
dollars and some small change. What was that compared with four hundred?
Trina told herself that she must have her money in hand. She longed to
see again the heap of it upon her work-table, where she could plunge her
hands into it, her face into it, feeling the cool, smooth metal upon her
cheeks. At such moments she would see in her imagination her wonderful
five thousand dollars piled in columns, shining and gleaming somewhere
at the bottom of Uncle Oelbermann's vault. She would look at the
paper that Uncle Oelbermann had given her, and tell herself that it
represented five thousand dollars. But in the end this ceased to satisfy
her, she must have the money itself. She must have her four hundred
dollars back again, there in her trunk, in her bag and her match-box,
where she could touch it and see it whenever she desired.

At length she could stand it no longer, and one day presented herself
before Uncle Oelbermann as he sat in his office in the wholesale toy
store, and told him she wanted to have four hundred dollars of her
money.

"But this is very irregular, you know, Mrs. McTeague," said the great
man. "Not business-like at all."

But his niece's misfortunes and the sight of her poor maimed hand
appealed to him. He opened his check-book. "You understand, of course,"
he said, "that this will reduce the amount of your interest by just so
much."

"I know, I know. I've thought of that," said Trina.

"Four hundred, did you say?" remarked Uncle Oelbermann, taking the cap
from his fountain pen.

"Yes, four hundred," exclaimed Trina, quickly, her eyes glistening.

Trina cashed the check and returned home with the money--all in
twenty-dollar pieces as she had desired--in an ecstasy of delight. For
half of that night she sat up playing with her money, counting it and
recounting it, polishing the duller pieces until they shone. Altogether
there were twenty twenty-dollar gold pieces.

"Oh-h, you beauties!" murmured Trina, running her palms over them,
fairly quivering with pleasure. "You beauties! IS there anything
prettier than a twenty-dollar gold piece? You dear, dear money! Oh,
don't I LOVE you! Mi