“There, it don’t matter; the best of friends must part. You’ll be back before so very long, and I’ll try and be a good boy meanwhile.
“Just call up the landlady, Jacob, and we can see her take charge of your nuggets.”
Jacob did as his master bade him.
“There, Mrs Jones,” he said, taking the bag hastily from Jacob’s hands; “this bag of nuggets belongs to my man. You see it contains gold,” he added, opening the mouth of the bag, and taking out a small nugget; “there,” tying it up with the string which he had removed from it, “he’ll know where to look for them when he comes back. We’ve the fullest confidence, Mrs Jones, that they will be safe in your keeping.”
“Indeed, sir,” said the landlady, curtseying, “I’d rather you should keep them.”
“No, no, Mrs Jones; Jacob knows very well that you’re to be trusted, but that I’m not.”
“Oh, sir!” exclaimed Mrs Jones; but she was at a loss what farther to say, for she felt that poor Frank spoke only the sober truth. At last she said,—
“Well, sir, I’ll take charge of them, as you both seem to wish it, and I’ll take care that no one sees where I put them.”
And so Jacob and his master parted.
Ten days passed by, and then Jacob, downcast and weary, made his way to the lodgings. His heart died within him at the expression of the landlady’s face when she had opened the door to him, and found that he was alone.