"Indeed, mother, I know nothing of it," poor Nancy answered, trembling
violently.

"Is it in that there teapot?" inquired the enraged mother, thrusting the
article in question close to the frightened girl's face. Nancy glanced
rapidly from the empty teapot to the chimney-piece.

"You needn't look there, you hussy," Mrs. Forest continued, seeing the
direction Nancy's eyes were taking. "There's _nothing_ on the
chimney-piece--the money's gone, and you've took it, because your father
said you were to--it wasn't his to give--did he mend the sacks? tell me
that! I'll have my money back--every halfpenny, so you'd better give it
me before I make you."

"Mother, I have not touched it; I know nothing about it, really I
don't," said Nancy desperately.

"What's that you've got in your hand?" demanded Mrs. Forest, catching
sight of the parcel containing the gloves.

Nancy did not answer; she was looking at the round table, which was
covered with the shining brass ornaments which had been removed from the
chimney-piece in the search for the missing coin. There they
were--candlesticks, pans, snuffer-tray, and beer-warmer, articles she
remembered from earliest childhood as never in use, and always highly
polished. Now as the firelight flickered upon them they seemed to be
looking at the distracted girl with countless fiery eyes which twinkled
in malice. Nancy could not take her eyes from these other eyes, she
could not think for the moment. She vaguely knew that her mother took