“How should you?” said Roger,—“you who never had a dog, or caught any sort of a bird in your life, I dare say.”
“No, I never could. One day, long ago, when mother was very busy, and I was tired of playing, she gave me some salt into my hand, and told me I might put it upon the birds’ tails in the garden, and so catch them: but I did not get one. At last, half the salt was spilt, and the other half was melted in my hand; and then dinner was ready. I suppose that was a joke of mother’s.”
“She wanted you out of the way; and what a fool you must have been not to find that out! Why, the birds could not have been sillier, if they had let you put the salt upon their tails.”
“It was a long while ago,” pleaded Mildred. “Here, take him,” said Roger, popping George into her arms. “Show him how to catch birds if you like. I can’t spend my time any longer here.”
“How he cries after you!” exclaimed Mildred. It was the first time Roger had ever known anybody to be sorry for his going away. The child was certainly crying after him. He half turned back, but turned again, saying—
“Can’t you tell him I will come again by-and-by? I must be off now.”
The truth was, Roger had never forgotten the chest—the oaken chest which looked so tempting when he saw it floating down, and Oliver would not stop to catch it,—the stout chest which he knew to be now safe and sound somewhere about the house, unless harm had happened to it during the night. Oliver agreed that it was of importance to bring this chest on shore: and the boys lost no time in doing it. Mildred came out with George to watch their proceedings, and found that Oliver had already made one trip, and brought over some articles of use and value. He came up to his sister, with something which he held carefully covered up in both hands. He said gravely—
“Here, dear, put this in some safe place,—where no one will know of it but you and me.”
“A watch!—mother’s watch!”
“I found it, with several things in her cupboard, thrown down by the wall breaking.”