I had been at home only a few minutes when in came the regular vender of eggs and chickens, who called at my house three times a week.  He squatted on the floor and I sat in front of him in a rocking-chair, watching my little maid drop the eggs into water to test their freshness.  After we had chaffered the usual time and had come to an agreement, I went into my room and brought out the bags of new coin.  I had bought about seventy-five cents worth from him, and I first gave him three of the new silver pesetas, which he admired greatly.  There were still fifteen cents due him; and when I reached my hand into the penny bag and hauled out a handful of gleaming copper, the maid said, “Jesus!” under her breath, and the man, “Dios mio!” He received his fifteen centavos with an attempt to conceal his satisfaction.  The maid requested permission to look inside the bag, and when she had done so merely grinned up at me with a look that said, “My!  You’re rich, aren’t you?”

It was Saturday morning, and I went on busying myself about things at home.  Pretty soon there came a deprecatory cough from the stairway—­the local method of announcing a visitor.  Outside of Manila knocking or ringing does not seem to appeal to the Filipinos.  In the provinces the educated classes come to the foot of the stairway and call “Permiso!” and the lower-class people come to the head of the stairway and cough to attact attention.  My chicken man had returned.  Was it possible that he had heard aright when he had understood the Senora to say that twenty of the new gold pieces went to one peseta?  The Senora explained that he had made no mistake.  Then, said the old rascal, with bows and smirks, since the lady had so many of them—­bags full of them—­had he not seen with his own eyes?—­would she have the kindness to take back those gleaming new pesetas, which were indeed beautiful, and give him gold in their stead?  The lady assured him that the new money was the same metal used in the old “dacold” and that in time it would become as dark and ugly, but his Filipino habit of relying on his own eyes was in full command of him.  The man thought that I had got hold of gold without knowing it, and supposed that he was getting the best of me.  I changed one peseta into coppers for him, and had difficulty in getting him to leave the house.  Ten minutes after he had left, a woman came in to sell me some more chickens.  I told her that I had just bought, but she put such a price on chickens as had never before come under my ken.  Ten cents was acceptable for a full-grown laying hen, the ordinary value of which was forty or fifty cents.  I suspected her of having had some information from the old man, and, in order to find out, I gave her the price of the five chickens, which I agreed to take, in the old “Mex” media-pesetas.  Then there was an explosion.  She reached for her precious chickens and broke that bargain then and there.  Her chickens would sell for ten cents gold, but for no media-peseta.  I asked her how she knew I had gold, and she said that did not matter—­I had some “diutang-a-dacolds” (little dacolds), and she was willing to sell hens for ten “diutang-a-dacolds” gold, but not for media-pesetas.  So I counted her out fifty new coppers and we both rejoiced in our bargain.  I told her that the media-peseta was worth ten dacolds, but she wanted the bright new money.