They thought him "tired." They kissed him and took his hands in theirs, and led him into the house. Stern and silent he sat down beside them at the supper-table. The children were also silent and sober-faced from intuitive sympathy. They could not yet introduce the topic which weighed upon them.
Socky looked at his father. For the first time he noted that his clothes were shabby; he knew that a few days before his father had lost his watch. The boy stole away from the table, and went to his little trunk and brought the sacred thing which his teacher had given him Christmas Day—a cheap watch that told time with a noisy and inspiring tick. He laid it down by his father's plate.
"There," said he, "I'm going to let you wear my watch."
It was one of those deep thrusts which only the hand of innocence can administer. Richard Gordon took the watch in his hand and sat a moment looking down. The boy manfully resumed his chair.
"It don't look very well for you to be going around without a watch," he remarked, taking up his piece of bread and butter.
His father put the watch in his pocket.
"You can let me wear it Sundays," the boy added. "You won't need it Sundays."
A smile overspread the man's face.
The children, quick to see their opportunity, approached him on either side. Sue put her arms around the neck of her father and kissed him.
"Tell us a story about Uncle Silas," she pleaded.