"Now, Miss Whitridge, you are not so superstitious as to believe that."
"Well, no, but it makes a nice little game to make believe you have faith in its charm. I like make believes. I always did as a child."
"I suppose all children do, but they give it up when they are grown."
"I'm not so sure of that. You go that way and I'll go this, and we'll meet at this big rock that looks like a huge rubber bag."
"Why can't we go together?"
"Because we might pounce upon the same stone, and you would be too polite not to let me have it, while I would be too selfish to give it up to you. The first one that finds will call the other."
They walked off in opposite directions, but Gwen, already familiar with the ground, was the first to call out. "I have one, a beauty! Oh, and here's a tiny one, too."
Mr. Mitchell hurried toward her. She held out the wee stone in her palm. "You shall have this," she said, "and I hope it may bring you good luck. The other I shall insist upon keeping."
"I think you are very generous to give me any," said Mr. Mitchell. "I shall have this polished to wear upon my watch chain."
"Lovely!" cried Gwen. "You are improving, sir."