“A very little,” Robert thought; but, to relieve the oppression of the subject they had been discussing, he forthwith set about procuring tools, with which he split first the box which proved to be Mrs. Sumfit’s, for it contained, amid six gold sovereigns and much silver and pence, a slip of paper, whereon was inscribed, in a handwriting identified by Rhoda as peculiar to the loving woman,—­

          “And sweetest love to her ever dear.”

Altogether the sum amounted to nine pounds, three shillings, and a farthing.

“Now for Master Gammon—­he’s heavy,” said Robert; and he made the savings of that unpretentious veteran bare.  Master Gammon had likewise written his word.  It was discovered on the blank space of a bit of newspaper, and looked much as if a fat lobworm had plunged himself into a bowl of ink, and in his literary delirium had twisted uneasily to the verge of the paper.  With difficulty they deciphered,—­

“Complemens.”

Robert sang, “Bravo, Gammon!” and counted the hoard.  All was in copper coinage, Lycurgan and severe, and reached the sum of one pound, seventeen shillings.  There were a number of farthings of Queen Anne’s reign, and Robert supposed them to be of value.  “So that, as yet, we can’t say who’s the winner,” he observed.

Rhoda was in tears.

“Be kind to him, please, when you see him,” she whispered.  The smaller gift had touched her heart more tenderly.

“Kind to the old man!” Robert laughed gently, and tied the two hoards in separate papers, which he stowed into one box, and fixed under string.  “This amount, put all in one, doesn’t go far, Rhoda.”

“No,” said she:  “I hope we may not need it.”  She broke out:  “Dear, good, humble friends!  The poor are God’s own people.  Christ has said so.  This is good, this is blessed money!” Rhoda’s cheeks flushed to their orange-rounded swarthy red, and her dark eyes had the fervour of an exalted earnestness.  “They are my friends for ever.  They save me from impiety.  They help me, as if God had answered my prayer.  Poor pennies! and the old man not knowing where his days may end!  He gives all—­he must have true faith in Providence.  May it come back to him multiplied a thousand fold!  While I have strength to work, the bread I earn shall be shared with him.  Old man, old man, I love you—­how I love you!  You drag me out of deep ditches.  Oh, good and dear old man, if God takes me first, may I have some power to intercede for you, if you have ever sinned!  Everybody in the world is not wicked.  There are some who go the ways directed by the Bible.  I owe you more than I can ever pay.”