time," interposed Mr. Lester gallantly. "Quite by accident it has come out that we are all interested in the subject of this old money that there's such a lot of about."
Clay bent a look towards his sister that made her tremble.
"Oh, come now," expostulated the visitor affably. "No harm done. You have 'em to sell and I'm willing to buy—at a reasonable figure, of course."
"There you're wrong, mister," said Clay stolidly. "I have none to sell."
Mr. Lester stared at him blankly, and Rosie forgot her nervousness in surprise.
"Why, Jim," she exclaimed, "and I told the gentleman that you wanted perhaps a shilling each!"
"That's like you, babbling," he retorted wrathfully. "Well, I don't."
"But—but" protested the dealer.
"Look here," said Clay brusquely. "They're on offer to some gen'lemen up at London. Gimme them few that you have, Rose. You aren't to be trusted with anything; and then go to the shop and get me a penny stamp."
"This is all very well, my young friend," said Mr. Lester, as Rosie departed, and her brother proceeded to pack up the coins in his rough-and-ready fashion, and to copy laboriously upon the cover an address from a letter, which the observant gentleman recognised as his own, "very nice and high-flown, but it ain't business."
Clay answered him with a look of native shrewdness. "I don't tell Rosie everything," he explained. "But as you seem to know so much about it, I don't mind you seeing what I come across in the Herald. What d'ye make of this?"
