The following paragraphs with reference to the title have been taken from Eben Holden:

I thought I’d like t’ hev ye both come up t’ my room, fer a minute, ‘fore yer mother ‘n father come back,” he said in a low tone that was almost a whisper. Then he shut one eye, suggestively, and beckoned with his head, as we followed him up the stairway to the little room in which he slept. He knelt by the bed and pulled out the old skin covered trunk that David Brower had given him soon after we came. He felt a moment for the key hole, his hand trembling, and then I helped him open the trunk. From under that sacred suit of broadcloth, worn only on the grandest occasions, he fetched a bundle about the size of a man’s head. It was tied in a big red handkerchief. We were both sitting on the floor beside him.

“Heft is,” he whispered.
I did so and found it heavier than I expected.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Spondoolix,” he whispered.
Then he untied the bundle—a close packed hoard of bankbills with some pieces of gold and silver at the bottom.
“Haint never hed no use fer it,” he said as he drew out a layer of the bills and spread them with trembling fingers. Then he began counting them slowly and carefully.
“There!” he whispered, when at length he had counted a hundred dollars. “There Hope! take thet an’ put it away in yer wallet. Might come handy when ye’re ‘way fr’m hum.”
She kissed him tenderly.
“Put it ‘n yer wallet an’ say nothin’—not a word t’ nobody,” he said.
Then he counted over a like amount for me.
“Say nothin’ ” he said, looking up at me over his spectacles. “Ye’ll hev t’ spile a suit o’ clothes purty often if them fellers keep a fightin’ uv ye all the time.”
Father and mother were coming in below stairs and, hearing them, we helped Uncle Eb tie up his bundle and stow it away. Then we went down to meet them.
Next morning we bade Hope good-by at the cars and returned to our home with a sense of loss that, for long, lay heavy upon us all. (1.)

1. Eben Holden: Chapter XXVI: pp. 259-61