“You must give her the watch.” The whisper was inaudible to the sobbing Mrs. Buckle, but Jack heard it and made a wry face, which was not to be wondered at. A boy’s first watch is mostly a treasured possession, and Mrs. Buckle was only a stranger. He had not even lived in touch with the tragic happenings of last fall, as Pam had done, so he was to be forgiven his momentary unwillingness to yield the watch he had valued so much. He was made of good stuff, though; for as Mrs. Buckle caught her breath on an extra big sob, and looked up to put a request to him, before she could utter one word of it he had thrust his hand out with a hasty movement, and was saying hurriedly:
“You will keep the watch, of course. I had no idea that it had been stolen. I am very glad that I have been able to bring it back to you.”
“Stolen!” cried Pam, aghast at the word. “Jack, Grandfather must have taken it!”
“We can’t be sure of that. All the same, it was stolen, whoever did it, seeing it was not his own,” said Jack with a sullen note in his voice; and he was turning away in a great hurry, for the scene was too emotional for him, when he knocked against a man who had come upon the group without being noticed, and who was standing staring at the watch in Mrs. Buckle’s hand.
“Hullo! I beg your pardon,” he said, expecting to be pulled up for his carelessness.
The man took no notice of him, only stared at Mrs. Buckle, who, now becoming aware of his presence, held the watch toward him, saying eagerly:
“See here, Mose Paget, this boy, Miss Walsh’s brother from England, has got my husband’s watch, and I knew it again directly. Isn’t it just wonderful?”
The man shook his head slightly, then said in a gruff voice:
“I don’t see anything very remarkable about it myself. Everyone knows that Wrack Peveril stole the watch from poor Sam, so what more natural than he should give it to his grandson?”
Jack flamed with sudden wrath, and thrusting out his fist he shook it within an inch of the tip of Mose Paget’s nose.