Jest you speak up an' out. If yer folks has sent you here"--his eyes
hardened and flashed--"to borrer money, why, you kin tell 'em I ain't
got none to loan."

Sissy laughed gaily.

"Why, I know that, Mr. Spooner. It's jest because, be-cause yer so
pore--so very, very pore, that I comed up."

"Is that so? Because I'm so very poor?"

"I heard that in the store this evenin'. I was a-comin' in as you was
a-comin' out. I heard Popsy say you was the porest man in the county,
porer than all of us pore folks put together."

She had lost her nervousness. She stood squarely before the old man,
lifting her tender blue eyes to his.

"Wal--an' what are you a-goin' to do about it?"

"I can't do overly much, Mr. Spooner, but fer a little girl I'm rich.
The dry year ain't hurt me any--yet. I've three dollars and sixty
cents of my own."

One hand had remained tightly clenched. Sissy opened it. In the moist
pink palm lay three dollars, a fifty-cent piece, and a dime. Never had
Pap's voice sounded so harsh in my ears as when he said: "Do I
understan' that ye offer this to--me?"

His tone frightened her.