“But I felt that you would find fault with me and object.”
“That’s quite right,” said Glyn, frowning. “I should have done so, for you promised me not to begin showing that thing about to anybody. Why will you be so weak and proud of what, after all, is only a toy?”
“It isn’t a toy,” cried the boy indignantly. “It is something very great and noble to possess such a—such a—”
“Showy thing,” said Glyn grimly.
“You can’t see it correctly,” said Singh; “and I only took it that Mr Barclay, who is a great student, might read—decipher, he called it—the words engraved on the stones; and he was very grateful because I let him read them, and thanked me very much.”
“But you might have remembered what I said to you about it.”
“I did remember, Glynny,” cried the boy warmly. “I thought of you all the time, and I even offended him at last by not doing what he wished.”
“What did he wish? To get you to lend him more money?”
“No,” cried Singh. “He wanted me to leave the belt with him, so that he might sit up all night and copy the inscription.”
“He did?”