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The Iron-jawed woman substituted the black cat charm, while Mademoiselle Denise held out for the virtues of occasional encounters with Ernie Cronk, the hunchback, whose hump he must have touched surreptitiously, no doubt. Only Joey and Ruby and Casey looked wise and said nothing. Dick was the luck-piece that brought it all about.
Peter put his hand in the sachet, and produced a bent coin. "Look at that," he said. "Why, it's my luck-piece!" exclaimed Leonore. "And you've spoiled that too. What a careless boy!" "No," said Peter. "They are not spoiled to me. Do you know what cut these holes and bent this coin?" "What?" "A bullet." "Peter!" "Yes. Your luck-piece stopped it, or I shouldn't be here."
Then Leonore turned to the mastiff and told him some things. Of how bad the strikers were, and how terrible were the Anarchists. "Yes, dear," she said, "I wish we had them here, and then you could treat them as they deserve, wouldn't you, Bêtise? I'm so glad he has my luck-piece!"
The bullet had only gone through the lower corner of the four photographs and the glove! Peter laughed happily. "I had a gold coin in my pocket, and the bullet struck that. Who says that a luck-piece is nothing but a superstition?" "But, Peter, shan't we call the police?" demanded Ogden, still looking stunned. Curlew moved towards the door. "One moment," said Peter, and Curlew stopped.
"I passed you when you was at Miz Thurston's, sir. I can' walk fas' like you can." And he bent down over the road again. "What's the matter with you?" asked Varney. "Have you lost something?" "Los' my luck-piece," said the other, slowly, not looking up. "I was carryin' it in my hand 's I come along an' it jounced out. A 1812 penny it was an' vallyble."
He cut rather a pitiful figure, squatting down in the dirt and squinting about with short-sighted old eyes; and Varney felt unaccountably sorry for him. "I wouldn' los' my luck-piece for nothin'," he added, dropping to his knees. "I'm a kind of a stoop'sitious man, an' I allus was." "Perhaps I can help you; my eyes are good."
With trembling fingers she detached from it the little luck-piece that Hale had given her the tear of a fairy that had turned into a tiny cross of stone when a strange messenger brought to the Virginia valley the story of the crucifixion. The penknife was still in her pocket, and, opening it, she went behind the Pine and dug a niche as high and as deep as she could toward its soft old heart.
"Oh," said Leonore, "I can't let you have that That's my luck-piece." "Is it?" Peter expressed much surprise blended with satisfaction in his tone. "Yes. You don't want to take my good luck." "I will think it over, and write you a legal opinion later. "Please!" Miss D'Alloi pleaded. "That is just what I have succeeded in doing for myself." "But I want my luck-piece.
I am a stowaway. I have no standing among you. I haven't a penny in my pocket, aside from a luck-piece that doesn't belong to me. I wanted to get back to the States so that I could carry a gun or something over in France. I wanted to fight for my country. I wasn't thinking very much about my life when I started for home and France, but I want to say that I'm thinking about it now.
"Even so, Madame Obosky," he returned, his jaw setting, "I am a good loser." "The spoils do not always go to the victor," she warned him. "I still have your luck-piece," said he, smiling as he slapped his trousers-leg. "It has always brought me luck," she said, looking straight into his eyes. "It may continue to do so, who knows?
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