He got off his stool in great excitement, and walked up and down the
room, still holding the brooch in his hand. Mary looked after him,
and her face was very pale. She said one word softly, "Mother!" that
was all.

Mary Denison and her mother were poor. Mrs. Denison was far from
strong, and they had no easy time of it, for there was little save
Mary's wages to feed and clothe the two women and pay their rent.
James Gregory knew all this; his pale old face was lighted with
emotion, and he stumped up and down the room at a rapid pace.

Suddenly he stopped, and faced the anxious girl, who was following
him with bewildered eyes.

"Findin's havin'!" he said, abruptly. "That's paper-mill law. Some
folks would tell ye to keep this to yourself, and sell it for what
you could get."

Mary's face flushed.

"But you do not tell me that!" she said, quietly.

"No!" roared the old man, with another explosion, stamping violently
on the floor. "No, I don't. You're poor as spring snakes, and your
mother's sickly, and you've hard work to get enough to keep the
flesh on your bones; but I don't tell ye to do that. I tell ye to
take it straight to the Old Man, and tell him where ye found it, and
all about it. I've knowed him ever since his mustash growed, and
before. You go straight to him! He's in the office now."