Georgina climbed to the top of the steps and sat down beside him, watching in deep and silent interest. When the string finally gave way she offered her lap to receive the contents of the pouch. Two five-dollar gold pieces rolled out first, then a handful of small change, a black ring evidently whittled out of a rubber button and lastly a watch-fob ornament. It was a little compass, set in something which looked like a nut.
“I believe that’s a buckeye,” said Richard. He examined it carefully on all sides, then called excitedly:
“Aw, look here! See those letters scratched on the side--’D. D.’? That stands for my name, Dare-devil Dick. I’m going to keep it.”
“That’s the cunningest thing I ever saw,” declared Georgina in a tone both admiring and envious, which plainly showed that she wished the initials were such as could be claimed by a Gory George. Then she picked up the pouch and thrust in her hand. Something rustled. It was a letter. Evidently it had been forwarded many times, for the envelope was entirely criss-crossed with names that had been written and blotted out that new ones might be added. All they could make out was “Mrs. Henry”--“Texas” and “Mass.”
“I’d like to have that stamp for my album,” said Richard. “It’s foreign. Seems to me I’ve got one that looks something like it, but I’m not sure. Maybe the letter will tell who the pouch belongs to.”
“But we can’t read other people’s letters,” objected Georgina.
“Well, who wants to? It won’t be reading it just to look at the head and tail, will it?”
“No,” admitted Georgina, hesitatingly. “Though it does seem like peeking.”
“Well, if you lost something wouldn’t you rather whoever found it should peek and find out it was yours, than to have it stay lost forever?”
“Yes, I s’pose so.”