“All wight. Hasn’t he,” Jack lowered his tone to conspirator’s pitch, “hasn’t he ever told anybody but you?”
“Oh, he’s told one or two. But in confidence, you know. People he can trust.”
Jack pulled himself up proudly. “I can keep secrets like anyfing.” But again he lowered his voice, and smiling delightedly, “What do vey say,” he demanded with lively anticipation, “vose ovvers, when vey hear about it?”
Mr. Mar did not answer instantly.
Jack drew nearer, still clasping the great book. “Oh, do tell me what vey say.”
“They—they think he dreamed it.”
“B—b—but,” Jack stuttered with indignation, “doesn’t he show vem ve nugget, and ve handkerchief wiv ve—”
“No,” said Mar, sadly. “He lost that handkerchief somewhere on the tundra.”