"Where do you think you left it?"
"In Peckham's office; that is, I think I left it there."
"Oh, well, he'll save it for you."
"I don't know about that. Some visitor may carry it away."
"Never mind, Mr. Bowen. You are rich enough to afford a new one."
"It isn't the value of the article, Thompson," said his friend, in some emotion. "That umbrella was brought me from Paris by my son John, who died. It is as a souvenir of him that I regard and value it. I would not lose it for a hundred dollars, nay, five hundred."
"If you value it so much, sir, suppose we turn round and go back for it."
Frank had listened to this conversation, and an idea struck him. Pressing forward, he said respectfully, "Let me go for it, sir. I will get it, and bring it to your house."
The two gentlemen fixed their eyes upon the bright, eager face of the petitioner.
"Who are you, my boy?" asked Mr. Thompson.