Robert felt in his pocket.
"You are mistaken, the handkerchief is not mine," he answered.
"Is that so? Why, I was sure you dropped it." And Jim Huskin appeared much surprised. "It's a pretty good article," he continued. "I guess I'll keep it."
"You might as well—if you can't find the owner."
"I once had a funny thing happen with a handkerchief," went on Jim Huskin, as he ranged up alongside of Robert when the boy started off again. "A lady dropped hers in a street car. I picked it up, and as I did so, out rolled, what do you think?"
"I'm sure I cannot imagine."
"A set of false teeth. The lady had been wiping her mouth and the teeth had dropped into the handkerchief. Maybe both of us weren't embarrassed. The lady got as red as a beet, and left the car at the very next corner." And Jim Huskin laughed loudly. "A good joke, wasn't it?"
"Perhaps for the others in the car; not for the lady," answered Robert, yet he could not help smiling.
"Live down this way?" asked the sharper carelessly.