They pawed the yaller-boys, and sifted them
through their fingers and let them jingle down on the floor; and the king
says:
"It ain't no use talkin'; bein' brothers to a rich dead man and
representatives of furrin heirs that's got left is the line for you and
me, Bilge. Thish yer comes of trust'n to Providence. It's the best way,
in the long run. I've tried 'em all, and ther' ain't no better way."
Most everybody would a been satisfied with the pile, and took it on
trust; but no, they must count it. So they counts it, and it comes out
four hundred and fifteen dollars short. Says the king:
"Dern him, I wonder what he done with that four hundred and fifteen
dollars?"
They worried over that awhile, and ransacked all around for it. Then the
duke says:
"Well, he was a pretty sick man, and likely he made a mistake--I reckon
that's the way of it. The best way's to let it go, and keep still about
it. We can spare it."
"Oh, shucks, yes, we can SPARE it. I don't k'yer noth'n 'bout that--it's
the COUNT I'm thinkin' about. We want to be awful square and open and
above-board here, you know. We want to lug this h-yer money up stairs
and count it before everybody--then ther' ain't noth'n suspicious. But
when the dead man says ther's six thous'n dollars, you know, we don't
want to--"
"Hold on," says the duke.
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