Two pence, four pence . . .
I stop when I reach one hundred twenty pence.
I don’t have enough. It looks like a lot of money, but it’s not.
I wring my hands in fear and pull my hair, dislodging my coif in the process. What can I do? I can’t pay for Daniel’s coffin. I’ll die in debtor’s prison! I reach for the coins and scoop them off the table and back into my purse. Then I put my purse into the pocketbook inside my dress.
The only thing I can do is sell something more.
I look around the room, as though something valuable will jump out at me. The cart will be here soon to take the furniture. I can go to my sister’s house, but I can’t stay there long. Lizzie was adamant about that. She didn’t have to be so mean about it.
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