“You shall not be denied the joy of generosity,” says she, with a sweet grace.  “But you must suffer me to give your ship’s company some token of my gratitude.”  Then turning to Simon with an air of authority, she says, “Simon, I have no money.”

The poor man fumbled in his pocket, and bringing out a purse, laid it open, showing some four or five pieces of silver and one of gold, which he hastily covered with his hand.

“I see you have not enough,” says Moll, and taking up a pen she quickly wrote some words on a piece of paper, signing it “Judith Godwin.”  Then showing it to Simon, she says, “You will pay this when it is presented to you,” and therewith she folds it and places it in the captain’s hand, bidding him farewell in a pretty speech.

“A hundred pounds! a hundred pounds!” gasps Simon, under his breath, in an agony and clutching up his purse to his breast.

“I am astonished,” says Moll, returning from the door, and addressing Simon, with a frown upon her brow, “that you are not better furnished to supply my wants, knowing by my letter how I stand.”

“Mistress,” replies he, humbly, “here is all I could raise upon such sudden notice”—­laying his purse before her.

“What is this?” cries she, emptying the contents upon the table. “’Tis nothing.  Here is barely sufficient to pay for our accommodation in this inn.  Where is the money to discharge my debt to these friends who have lost all in saving me?  You were given timely notice of their purpose.”

“Prithee, be patient with me, gentle mistress.  ’Tis true, I knew of their intent, but they were to have returned in six months, and when they came not at the end of the year I did truly give up all for lost; and so I made a fresh investment of thy fortune, laying it out all in life bonds and houses, to great worldly advantage, as thou shalt see in good time.  Ere long I may get in some rents—­”

“And in the meanwhile are we to stay in this plight—­to beg for charity?” asks Moll, indignantly.  “Nay, mistress.  Doubtless for your present wants this kind merchant friend—­”

“We have lost all,” says I, “Evans his ship, and I the lading in which all my capital was embarked.”

“And I every maravedi I possessed,” adds the Don.

“And had they not,” cries Moll, “were they possessed now of all they had, think you that I with an estate, as I am told, of sixty thousand pounds would add to the debt I owe them by one single penny!”

“If I may speak in your steward’s defence, Madam,” says I, humbly, “I would point out that the richest estate is not always readily converted into money.  ’Tis like a rich jewel which the owner, though he be starving, must hold till he find a market.”

“Thee hearest him, mistress,” cries Simon, in delight.  “A man of business—­a merchant who knows these things.  Explain it further, friend, for thine are words of precious wisdom.”