"I say, Dick," continued Larkins, "what are you going to do with it? How shall you spend it? Won't you go and have a good feed at the cook-shop to begin with?"
Dick heard, and a savoury thought about hot meat and potatoes crossed his mind; but he put it away again, for more important ideas were floating there. His countenance was grave and thoughtful. "I don't think," said he, "that the gentleman meant to give me yellow money. He said there were pence inside the paper. I'm quite sure he did not know there was any gold there."
"Why, then, all the better for you that he made a mistake," said Larkins. "What a lucky thing that he did not look to see what there was inside the paper before he gave it you!"
Time was, before he knew old Walters, that Dick would have thought so too, but now he could not feel any pleasure in taking possession of what it was not intended he should have.
"I should like to give it back to the gentleman," he said. "It would be like stealing, I think, if I kept it."
"Well, you would be a silly chap to do that," exclaimed Larkins—"but one good thing is, you can't give it back; you don't know where he lives."
"Yes, I think I do," said Dick. "He said that something was to be sent to No.— Grosvenor Square; so he lives there, I daresay, and I can find him, perhaps."
Larkins' indignation was very great at his stupid folly, as he called it. His visions of being treated to a hot dinner at the cook-shop were melting away. Then he tried ridicule: called him "A young saint," "Pious Dick," "Parson Dick," "Preaching Dick," but all to no purpose. At length Dick escaped from his teasing by taking the turning which led to Walters' lodging, whose advice he wished to ask.
He was out. Then he went and looked for him in the market, but he was not to be found.
"I know he would tell me I ought to try and find the gentleman," he said to himself, "so I'll go at once."