“Did you see the sovereigns in the box?” I ses, turning to the skipper.
“No,” he ses, shaking his ’ead.
“’Ow do you know they was there, then?” ses I.
“Because you took charge of ’em,” said the skipper; “and I know wot a clever, sharp chap you are. It stands to reason that you wouldn’t be responsible for a box like that unless you saw inside of it. Why, a child o’ five wouldn’t!”
I stood there looking at ’im, but he couldn’t meet my eye. None of ’em could; and arter waiting there for a minute or two to give ’em a chance, I turned my back on ’em and went off to my dooty.
MADE TO MEASURE
Mr. Mott brought his niece home from the station with considerable pride. Although he had received a photograph to assist identification, he had been very dubious about accosting the pretty, well-dressed girl who had stepped from the train and gazed around with dove-like eyes in search of him. Now he was comfortably conscious of the admiring gaze of his younger fellow-townsmen.
“You’ll find it a bit dull after London, I expect,” he remarked, as he inserted his key in the door of a small house in a quiet street.
“I’m tired of London,” said Miss Garland. “I think this is a beautiful little old town—so peaceful.”
Mr. Mott looked gratified.