"Shove up your watch. Leave it with your uncle, you know, until you earned enough to buy it back."
"Do you mean sell it?"
"No. They'd ask too many questions if you tried to sell it, and wouldn't give much more, anyway. I mean pawn it."
"All right," replied Alaric. "I'm willing, only I don't know how."
"Oh, I'll show you quick enough, if you really want to do it."
As Alaric insisted that he was willing to do almost anything to procure that coveted sailor's outfit, Bonny led him to a mean-looking shop, above the door of which hung three golden balls. The dingy windows were filled with a dusty miscellany of watches, pistols, and all sorts of personal property, while the opening of the door set loose a musty odor of old clothing. As this came pouring forth Alaric instinctively drew back in disgust; but with a sudden thought that he could not afford to be too fastidious in the new life he had chosen, he conquered his repugnance to the place and followed Bonny inside.
A gaunt old Hebrew in a soiled dressing-gown stood behind a small counter. As Alaric glanced at him hesitatingly, Bonny opened their business by saying, briskly:
"Hello, uncle! How are you to-day? My friend here wants to make a raise on his watch."
"Let's see dot vatch," replied Mr. Isaacs, and Alaric handed it to him, together with the chain and pencil-case. It was a fine Swiss chronometer, with the monogram A.D.T. engraved on its back; and as the pawnbroker tested the quality of its case and peered at the works, Alaric noted his deliberate movements with nervous anxiety. Finally the man said:
"I gifs you den tollars on dot vatch mit der chain und pencil trown in."