“Mark what, sir?”
“Why, I have told you—haven’t I? My pocket-book, full of——Ah! I see you have found it, my good, honest lad,” he went on, altering his tone, and recovering his composure as the child held out the bloated purse to its owner. “Full of documents, boy; of no use to anybody but me. Thank you for restoring it.”
He snatched at the recovered treasure, and hastily unfastened the clasp to see if any of its contents had been disturbed, revealing to the youth some of the documents, which appeared marvellously like bank-notes, and a good many of them.
“It’s all right, my little man. Stop! What is your name?” [[142]]
“Eddy Wilkinson, sir.”
“Eddy Wilkinson, eh? Where d’ye live, boy? Where’s your father and mother?”
“Father’s dead; and we live in Baker’s Court, Redfern,” answered Eddy, turning to depart.
“Stay one moment. I like to encourage honesty. Honesty is the best policy, eh?” cried the old gentleman, fumbling in his vest pocket. “Here is sixpence for you, and to-morrow, if you call at the office of Balam Bros., Woolbrokers, York Street, I will consider about a further reward. Now run off home out of the wet.”
“It’s very mean of him, so it is, only to give me sixpence for finding such a lot of money,” muttered Eddy, as he trotted homeward through the storm. “Well, well, I must not grumble; sixpences are sixpences these ’ere times—so mother says. But what a thin, battered old coin it is!” he cried, holding it up beneath the glare of a gas lamp. “I believe it’s a bad one!” and the boy closed his sharp teeth on it the next moment.
“Oh dear! Oh!” shrieked a voice, which seemed to issue out of Eddy’s own mouth. The poor child dropped the coin instantly, and ran for his life; but he soon recovered from his surprise, and returned to where the sixpence lay [[143]]on the shining flag in the full light of the street lamp.