"Say, this is a pearl, all right, and a jim-dandy one, too," declared Steve, after he had had his turn at handling the discovery, "I ought to know, because my mother's got a string of the same—left to her by an old aunt over in England."
"Owen, what d'ye suppose it's worth!" demanded Max, turning on his cousin.
"Well, now, you've got me there, fellows," declared the bookworm. "You see everything depends on how pure and perfect it happens to be."
"That's a fact," said Steve, thoughtfully, as he feasted his eyes on the little beauty. "D'ye know, fellows, I've always been fond of pearls. Why, when I was only a little kid my mother says I used to notice a ring my aunt wore, and would hang around her all the time, wanting to touch the pretty little gem. I reckon the old admiration still holds good."
Steve even sighed as he reluctantly passed the new-found pearl along. Max smiled to notice how his eyes seemed to follow it.
"Well, we've proved one thing, sure," remarked Bandy-legs, as he scraped the skillet carefully for the third time, evidently believing it was a sin to waste a single scrap of good food.
"Yes," spoke up Toby, who was watching this action with signs of disapproval, for he believed he would be compelled to complete his meal with crackers and cheese; "we k-k-know now there are p-pearls in some of these b-b-blessed old m-m-m"—whistle—"mussels, there!"
"But don't let's get too big notions, fellows," Owen thought fit to put in just then.
Owen was what his teacher at school always described as "conservative." He lacked the impulsive sanguine disposition of Steve. At the same time he was no "croaker," and far from being a "doubting Thomas."
Owen often acted as a safety brake in connection with his chums. When some of them showed signs of rushing pellmell along the road, regardless of difficulties and unseen pitfalls, it was Owen who would gently draw them in, and counsel caution.