He felt in all his pockets, one after another. After a long time, he
brought out some pennies, “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven,
eight, nine, ten,” he counted slowly.

He took the books, turned and left the shop. Maida watched him in
astonishment. Was he really going for good?

In a few minutes the little bell tinkled a second time and there
stood Billy again.

“Good morning, Petronilla,” he said pleasantly, as if he had not
seen her before that morning, “How’s business?”

“Fine!” Maida responded promptly. “I’ve just sold ten fairy books to
the funniest little boy you ever saw.”

“My stars and garters!” Billy exclaimed. “Business surely is brisk.
Keep that up and you can afford to have a cat. I’ve brought you
something.”

He opened the bag he carried and took a box out from it. “Hold out
your two hands,—it’s heavy,” he warned.

In spite of his preparation, the box nearly fell to the floor—it was
so much heavier than Maida expected. “What can be in it?” she cried
excitedly. She pulled the cover off—then murmured a little “oh!” of
delight.

The box was full—cram-jam full—of pennies; pennies so new that they