“No, I’m not,” said Tim, shortly.
“What made you borrer this boy’s fiddle, then?”
“I don’t know anything about it,” said Tim, in a fright.
“Some folks forgets easy,” returned Dick. “I know a man what went into Tiffany’s and took up a watch to look at, and carried it off, forgettin’ to pay for it. That’s what he told the judge the next day, and the judge sent him to the island for a few months to improve his memory. The air over to the island is very good to improve the memory.”
“You ought to know,” said Tim, sullenly; “you’ve been there times enough.”
“Have I?” said Dick. “Maybe you saw me there. Was it the ninth time you were there, or the tenth?”
“I never was there,” said Tim.
“Maybe it was your twin brother.” suggested Dick. “What made you break my friend’s fiddle? He wouldn’t have minded it so much, only it belonged to his grandfather, a noble count, who made boots for a livin’.”
“I don’t believe he had a fiddle at all,” said Tim.
“That’s where your forgetfulness comes in,” said Dick “Have you forgot the lickin’ I gave you last summer for stealin’ my blackin’ box?”