Part 33 (2/2)

Tim, grasping the squirming fish tightly behind the gills, disengaged the hook and threw the fish down in the gra.s.s again. ”That one's yours,”

he said.

The girl still held the pole.

”Let me try just a minute, will you?” she asked. ”If I get another, you can have it.”

Tim a.s.sented readily, and she swung the pole and cast the hook far out upon the water. She drew it back and forth past a clump of lily pads, and then cast again. She was not as skilful with the long rod as the boy had been, however; and once, as she cast, the line did not have time to straighten out behind her, and the hook fell in the water close by the sh.o.r.e. She jerked it out and tried to cast again.

The hook swung in, almost striking her in the face; and both she and Tim Reardon dodged. The next moment, she made a sweep with the rod, to throw the hook back toward the water. Something caught, and she felt a slight tug at her neck. She dropped the rod and uttered a cry of dismay.

”What's the matter?” cried Little Tim. ”Did you get hooked?”

But the girl made no answer. She stood, holding the ends of the broken chain in either hand, anxiously looking all about her.

”The coin!” she gasped. ”Tim, I've lost the coin. Oh, won't gran' give it to me if I've lost that again!”

They hunted everywhere about them, parting the tufts of gra.s.s carefully and poking about on hands and knees. But the coin was nowhere to be seen.

”I tell you what,” suggested Tim, ”it's gone into the water. Never mind, though; I can get it. I'll dive for it.”

They were at the edge of a little bank, from which the water went off deep at a sharp angle. They gazed down into the water, but there was not light enough within its depths, nor was it sufficiently clear to enable them to see the bottom.

”I'm going in after it, too,” exclaimed Bess Thornton; ”but I can't in this dress.” She glanced at the sailor-suit she wore. ”I'm going back to the house and put on the old one. You try for it while I'm gone, won't you, Tim?”

The boy nodded; and Bess Thornton, half in tears, started off on a smart run to the old house. In her dismay, she had forgotten that Granny Thornton had returned from the inn; but she was speedily aware of that fact as she darted in at the kitchen door. There stood Granny Thornton, with mingled anger and alarm depicted on her countenance.

”Oh,” she cried, ”I'd just like to shake you, good. Give me back that chain and the coin. Don't say you didn't take it. I found it gone. What do you mean by going into that drawer? Don't you ever--”

She stopped abruptly, for Bess Thornton was facing her, the tears standing in her eyes, and she held in her hand the broken chain.

”Oh, gran',” she cried, ”don't scold. I didn't mean any harm. I just wanted to wear it a little while. But it's--it's gone.”

And she told the story of the loss of the coin.

Granny Thornton stared at the girl in amazement. Then she burst forth in querulous tones, seemingly as though she were addressing the girl and soliloquizing at the same time.

”It's gone!” she gasped. ”Gone again--and sure there's a fate in it.

Plenty of chains like that to be had, but never another coin of the kind seen about these parts. Oh, but you've gone and done it. Don't you know that coin meant luck for you, girl? You might have gone to the big house to live some day; but you'll never go now. You've lost the luck. You're bad--bad. There's no making you mind. Give me the chain.”

Her voice grew more harsh and angry. ”Let the coin go,” she said.

”You've lost it, and you can suffer for it. You'll not go out of this house again to-day.”

Puzzled at her strange words, and hurt at the scolding, Bess Thornton sat sullenly. ”I'll get it back to-morrow, if I can't to-day,” she said.

”I'm going to dive for it.”

”You keep away from the water, do you hear?” replied Granny Thornton; but, a half-hour later, she seemed to have changed her mind. ”Go and get it, if you can,” she said, shortly. ”Change that dress--and don't get drowned.”

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