"May I set it by your watch? I 'd like to set it by your watch, Barstow."
He adjusted the hands tenderly, again as though it were the act of a high priest.
"Now," he said, "it's going straight. I shall never let the old thing run down again. I think it hurts a watch, don't you, Barstow?"
"Yes," answered the latter, amazed at his emphasis upon such trivialities.
"Now," he said, "I must hurry. Where's my hat? Oh, there it is. And Sandy—where's Sandy?"
The dog crawled out at once at the sound of his name, and he stooped to pet him a moment.
"I don't suppose you 'd sell Sandy, would you, Barstow?"
"I 'll give him to you, if you 'll take him off. I have n't a fit place to keep him."
"May I take him now? May I take him with me?"
"Yes—if you'll come back to me to-morrow and report how you are."