All grasped whatever gifts they could
and turned from him laughing: "The watch of the fob is brass"; "No more
worth than a play marble is the ring"; "Old Griffiths is the bloomin'
limit." Yet Jacob had delight in the thought that folk passed him rich
for his apparel and acts.
"Waste of hours very awful is this," Simon uttered by and by. He brought
out his order book and a blacklead pencil. "Take stock will I now and
put down."
He searched the pockets of Jacob's garments and the drawers in the
chest, and knelt on his knees and peered under Jacob's bed; and all that
he found were trashy clothes and boots. His sisters tore open the seams
of the garments and spread their fingers in the hollow places, and they
did not find anything.
"Jewellary he had," exclaimed Annie. "Much was the value of his diamond
ring. 'This I will to you,' he said to me. Champion she would seem on my
finger. Half a hundred guineas was her worth."
"Where is the watch and chain?" Jane fach demanded. "Gold they were.
Link like the fingers of feet the chain had. These I have."
"Lovely were his solitaires," cried Annie. "They are mine."
"Liar of a bitch," said Jane fach.
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