"You haint seed the boot he got," replied Geordie, calmly. "Show her that 'ere watch and chain, Hose."
Hosea drew from his pocket a battered nickel watch, which Geordie held toward me with the air of a connoisseur. "That 'ere's a three-dollar-and-ninety-five-cent watch," he said; "I got it a-Christmas on Bald Eagle, off of Johnny Miles, that just come home from the Penitentiary."
"Did you pay him that much for it?"
"No'm,—he was offering it around for that,—I got it a little-grain cheaper."
"How much cheaper?"
"Well, I paid him forty cents spot-cash for it,—he was a-needing money."
"And you call that a fair trade,—your old worn coat and a forty-cent watch for his nice new coat his mother made?"
"It's a three-dollar-and-ninety-five-cent watch, Miss Loring," Geordie repeated, patiently: "And, been in the Penitentiary!"
This failing to enhance its value in my eyes, he added, "And that haint all,—just cast your eye on that chain!"
The chain was a flimsy affair of two brass wires, on which were strung at intervals three battered objects which I at last recognized as dice. "Them 'ere," said Geordie impressively, "is able to make a living for a man all by theirselves. I seed Johnny Miles make a dollar'n' a quarter in five minutes, a-flingin' 'em. And when Hose heared about it, he said he were bound to have 'em. And thaint nary nother boy on Perilous I'd a-let have 'em; but Hose he's such a good boy, and so peaceable, and never does no meanness, and allus minds you, and knows his books, and gits up in time of a morning, I felt like I ought to prosper him if I could. So I told him all right, to take them dice and buy him a hundred overcoats if he wanted!"