by Meg Allison
Intrigued, she knelt and pulled at a loose thread. Swiftly the thread unraveled, the material fell away from the sofa. Kitty glanced up at Connie, who watched fascinated. Lifting the material flap revealed the wooden structure, and, at the bottom, a box nailed onto a small shelf on the base.
“Oh my.” Kitty held her breath as she reached in and raised the box’s lid. Gently, she lifted out a little velvet bag. Within it came the soft clink of coins rubbing together. Handing the bag to Connie, Kitty stretched in again and kept doing so until the box was empty.
They stood at the table and stared in wonderment at thirty-two bags.
“I…I never expected to find anything,” Kitty whispered.
“The jammy old sod.” Connie grunted. “She lived like a pauper an’ yet had all this.”
“Oh, Connie, I cannot take this money. It’s not right.” The pile of bags made her queasy. She looked nervously over her shoulder at the door, expecting the police to come barging through any minute and arrest her for trespassing.
Connie gave her a sharp jab with her finger. “Listen, lass, I know you don’t feel right about it. But when you think about it, who else is goin’ ter have it? She’s got no kin.”
Speechless, Kitty shook her head.
Connie picked up the first bag, opened it and tipped out the coins onto the table. In a short time, the coins were stacked into small towers. Each bag contained ten gold sovereigns totaling three hundred and twenty.
“Oh, lass,” Connie whispered wide-eyed.
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