Jack's Lost Coin

Jack had just a dull coin, small and worn, with a chip on its rim. It was all Jack had. Daily Jack stood outside Gunn's shop, staring at a brass drum in a window. It shone as bright sun on a pond. A drumstick hung from a hook by it, waiting to bang out loud, happy din.

"Soon that drum will sit in my arms," Jack told his dog, Sam. Sam swung his tail and sat down in dust.

Gunn was a tall man with a rough, gruff laugh and a kind grin. "Still looking, young man?"

"Okay, sir," Jack said. "I am saving all I can."

On a cold morning Jack ran down a hill, fast, to Gunn's shop. Jack dug into his sock. Gone. Jack scanned road, grass, and ditch. Sam sniffed at all brush. Jack sat on a wall, worn out and sad, and cried a little.

Sam barked and dug in a heap of dark, damp grass. Out popped a dull coin with a chip on its rim. Jack grabbed it and sang out loud.

Jack ran back to Gunn's shop, panting, and thrust up his coin. "I found it! Will this do?"

Gunn took it, flipped it round, and said nothing for a long while. At last he scanned Jack's dusty, hopeful look. "Jack, this coin falls short of drum's cost. But I think you've worked hard all month, and that counts for a lot."

Gunn grabbed that drum from its spot in his window and passed it to Jack. "Take it. Just guard it well and bang it loud."

Jack lit up and clung tight to it. "Thank you, sir! I will play it all day long."

Jack hopped home, thumping his drum, and all town caught his joy. Jack gripped all coins tight in his fist from that day on.

Word count: 317