“I usen’t to think so at one time, Mas’r Harry,” he said; “but since I’ve been working away here, melting of myself away almost as fast as I melted gold, it’s seemed to me as if, when I get home, and Sally Smith knows as I’m a gentleman with a large income of two pound a week, she may be a bit more civil like to me.”
“Very likely, Tom,” I said smiling.
“That’s just what I say, Mas’r Harry—very likely; that is, you know, if there’s anything more left of me than the ivory.”
“Ivory, Tom?” I said, wondering what he meant.
“Yes, Mas’r Harry—the bones, you know. Don’t you see, I mean if I ain’t melted all away.”
Two months, I say, had it taken before the rich metal was all reduced to neat little bars ready for packing up.
Then we had to discuss the question of the size and material of the cases in which we were to carry home our treasure so as not to excite suspicion.
“We must risk suspicion and inquiry too,” said my uncle. “Our way now, Harry, is to get the stuff packed up and go straight away.”
“I should do it quite openly,” said Lilla quietly, “and if inquiries are made you can say that the chests in which it is packed contain gold. No one can be suspicious then. The people will only think that you are very rich, and be the more respectful.”
“You are right, Lilla,” said my uncle. “We can show our ingots—I mean your ingots, Harry. No one can prove how you came by them.”