“Mustard-box, Auntie David,” interrupted Pauline.
Mrs. Davidson shook her forefinger playfully at her niece.
“When father saw the yellow dust inside the box, he knew at once that it wasn’t mustard, and he questioned us about it.”
“We had rather more gold than usual then, I remember, Almeda,” added Captain Bradstreet. “Probably the creek had risen, and we hadn’t been able to cross over it to the store for several days.”
“Very likely, Alec. Well, father said to us that if he were in our places he wouldn’t spend the gold for candy. He asked us if we didn’t think it would be nicer to save all the gold we could find, and have this made into a present for mother.”
“And after that, Almeda, you and I used to scrape the sluices and dig among the tailings for hours together.”
“Did you buy your mamma the present, Mrs. Davidson?” asked Weezy, impatient for the end of the story.
“Father bought it. He sent East for it the next spring,” answered Mrs. Davidson, slipping a heavy gold chain from her neck as she rose from the table.
“It was this watch, Weezy.”
The children crowded around Mrs. Davidson as she opened the hunter’s case, and pointed out this inscription engraved on the inside:—