Part 12 (2/2)

”Mine,” said d.i.c.k, briefly, rather enjoying the book-keeper's surprise.

”How did you come by it?”

”Honestly,” said d.i.c.k.

”Is it gold, or only plated?”

”It's gold.”

”Humph! Did you buy it, or was it given you?”

”Well,” said d.i.c.k, ”I didn't buy it.”

”Did you say it was yours?”

”Yes.”

Gilbert looked at d.i.c.k in surprise. Our hero was becoming more and more an enigma to him. That a boy in d.i.c.k's position should have a gold watch given him, especially now that he had learned from his cousin Roswell the nature of d.i.c.k's former employment, seemed indeed wonderful.

”Let me look at your watch a minute,” he said.

d.i.c.k handed it to him.

”It seems to be a very good one,” he said.

”Yes,” said d.i.c.k; ”I aint proud. It's as good as I want to wear.”

”It looks entirely out of place on such a boy as you,” said the book-keeper, sharply.

”Perhaps it would look better on you,” suggested our hero, innocently.

”Yes, it would be more appropriate for me to wear than you. You're not old enough to be trusted with a watch; least of all with such a good one as that.”

”Perhaps you'd be kind enough to mention it to the one that gave it to me.”

”Whoever gave it to you didn't show much judgment,” said Gilbert, in the same pleasant way. ”Who was it?”

”It was Mrs. Rockwell.”

If a bombsh.e.l.l had exploded in the office, it could hardly have taken Gilbert more by surprise.

”Who did you say?” he repeated, thinking his ears might have deceived him.

”Mrs. Rockwell,” said d.i.c.k, once more.

The book-keeper could hardly suppress a low whistle.

”When did she give it to you?”

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