Duke surveyed the bushman from head to foot with a child’s disapproval of a type unknown.
“Hold your tongue,” he said, “and let me alone. He’s not staying in the house! Why, I’ve never seen him till this moment, and he’s not like anybody I know.”
“What’s your name, little man?” said Ralph. “Come here and shake hands, and I’ll give you a bit of Australian gold, my boy, to know your uncle by.”
Duke planted his thin little legs very wide apart and stared. He liked the idea of that bit of gold without any special certainty as to what it was, but he did not approach too close to a man whose appearance did not satisfy his perceptions. “I don’t know you,” he said, “I don’t know you a bit. I never saw any one the least like you. Do you mean that you’re my uncle? What are bits of Australian gold like?”
“They are very much like sovereigns,” said Ralph.
Duke’s legs involuntarily brought him a little nearer. “You are not like the rest of the gentlemen,” said Duke. “You are very queerly dressed. I don’t think you can be my uncle. But I should like to see the Australian gold.”
Australian was a big mouthful for such a small boy. He got over it in syllables and with an effort.
“Look here,” said Ralph, repeating the manœuvre which he had tried with Saunders. Only he twanged the sovereign into the air with his thumb and caught it this time in the palm of his own hand. Duke watched the coin with the greatest interest and drew near to look at it, but did not put forth his own little hand.
“It’s just money,” he said, in a tone of half disappointment, half contempt. Then he added, “Should I have that to spend if—if you gave it me, you know.”
“Oh yes, you should have it to spend. You shall have it when you come and shake hands with your uncle,” said Ralph.