"Do you want to buy that?" asked Jane.

"No, silly,--we'll _hire_ it. And then we'll go to Rochester and buy
heaps and heaps of things. Look here, let's each take as much as we can
carry. But it's not sovereigns. They've got a man's head on one side and
a thing like the ace of spades on the other. Fill your pockets with it,
I tell you, and come along. You can talk as we go--if you _must_ talk."

Cyril sat down and began to fill his pockets.

"You made fun of me for getting father to have nine pockets in my suit,"
said he, "but now you see!"

They did. For when Cyril had filled his nine pockets and his
handkerchief and the space between himself and his shirt front with the
gold coins, he had to stand up. But he staggered, and had to sit down
again in a hurry.

"Throw out some of the cargo," said Robert. "You'll sink the ship, old
chap. That comes of nine pockets."

And Cyril had to do so.

Then they set off to walk to the village. It was more than a mile, and
the road was very dusty indeed, and the sun seemed to get hotter and
hotter, and the gold in their pockets got heavier and heavier.

It was Jane who said, "I don't see how we're to spend it all. There must
be thousands of pounds among the lot of us. I'm going to leave some of