Read this original fiction passage, set in the nineteenth century.

Ruth had been sent to buy a loaf and two candles. Her mother had counted the coins twice before wrapping them in a square of cloth, and Ruth knew there would be nothing left afterwards for coal. Yet, outside the grocer’s shop, she opened her hand and discovered a shilling among the change.

Her brother Ned stared at it. ‘Keep it,’ he said. ‘Mr Benson has a drawer full of money. He will never miss one coin.’ He pointed towards their house, where no smoke rose from the chimney. Ruth looked at her thin gloves. She imagined her mother sewing beside the last red spark in the grate.

They walked halfway home. Inside Ruth’s closed hand, the shilling seemed to grow heavier with every step. It did not feel like a gift. It felt like a question she had not answered. At the corner, she stopped and turned back.

‘You are a fool,’ Ned called after her.

The grocer was fastening his shutters when Ruth reached the shop. Inside, his young assistant stood beside the counter with his apron folded under one arm. Mr Benson was telling him that the missing money must be taken from his wages.

Ruth placed the shilling on the counter. ‘You gave me too much change, sir.’

For a moment, nobody spoke. Then Mr Benson unfolded the assistant’s apron and handed it back to him. His face had reddened. ‘You have prevented an injustice,’ he said quietly. He offered Ruth a penny for her honesty, but she shook her head. The shilling had not belonged to her, and she would not be paid for returning it.

At home, Ned told their mother what had happened, expecting her to be angry. She glanced at the empty coal box and drew her shawl more closely around her shoulders. ‘A fire bought that way would have given little comfort,’ she said, placing one hand on Ruth’s shoulder.

Ruth’s fingers were still cold, but they were no longer tightly closed.