“To San Jose?” Syd repeated in surprise. After a pause he added, “Mothers are queer—sometimes.”
Ben did not reply, for he knew that Syd thought that his mother suspected the truth.
“I meant to venture out to-night, to try to find out how you were and give you your gold,” Syd continued. “Here it is.” He held out the vial. “I hope I’ll never pass such a week of torture again!”
“It has been a mean experience for us both,” Ben replied as he took the vial, “but maybe it’s done us both good. I’ll keep a nugget or a lump out of this,” he held up the vial containing the amalgam, “for the scarf-pin I promised you once.”
“No, thank you, Ben; I’d rather not take it,” Syd replied.
“Just as you say,” Ben put out his hand, for they had reached the foot of the hill. Syd took the proffered hand with such a hearty grasp that Ben felt that the experience had made them better friends than they had ever been.
“That’s over, I’m thankful to say,” said Ben to himself, as he rapidly walked down the street. “And now for Mr. Hale.”