oticed. She did, however, say to Gretchen, as
they separated: "Did you see that?"

"What?" said the German, innocently.

"Oh! nothing, if you did not see it." Bertie was going to tell her
companion what she had seen, but on second thoughts decided to keep her
discovery to herself, that she might have more power over the "saint,"
whom she was beginning to absolutely hate.

But Gretchen had seen exactly what Bertie had, only she did not think it
her business, and as it was not, did not choose to speak about it, but,
German fashion, went about her own business.

What had the two girls seen? What was it that made Katie Robertson's
face such a study as she walked home at a much slower pace than was her
wont? What was it that lay in the depth of her pocket, where her hand
rested for greater security. What did she put away in the drawer that
contained her treasures, going directly to her room for the purpose,
instead of rushing first of all to the sitting-room to see if her mother
were at home.

Only a crisp fifty-dollar bill! Katie had never seen so much money at
once before. How beautiful it looked; how much it represented of comfort
and luxury; how many things it would buy that she knew were wanted by
her mother and the boys! She deposited her treasure carefully at the
bottom of a little pearl box which had been her mother's, and was the
only really pretty thing which she possessed, and then went downstairs
to lie on the sofa, think about and plan for spending it.

Where had Katie suddenly got so much money? and why did she so earnestly
desire to keep the possession of it a secret? She _thought_ the answer
to the latter question lay in her desire to surprise her mother, and was
not at all conscious of another feeling that lay as yet quite dormant
and unaroused. As to the former, that is easily answered. After cutting
off the buttons of an old vest, just as the little girl was preparing to
cut it in smaller pieces, the pocket opened, and out fluttered a
crumpled paper, which on being opened proved to be a fifty-dollar bill.
Some careless gentleman, no one could tell whom, no one could tell when,
had stuffed it into the pocket and forgotten all about it. Strange that
the vest should have gone through all the vicissitudes common to old
clothes, worn possibly by a beggar, condemned to a dust-heap, fished
out, sorted, sold, packed, sold again, and transported to the factory,
passing through a dozen hands, to any one of who