"To-morrow," said Olive, half-laughing, half-crying, "we will all come round the well with hook and line and fish for it. It will be quite a new sport."
"No, we must try some other way," said Benson. "You shall have it back."
"How?" asked the girl.
"You shall see," said Benson. "To-morrow morning at latest you shall have it back. Till then promise me that you will not mention your loss to anyone. Promise."
"I promise," said Olive, wonderingly. "But why not?"
"It is of great value, for one thing, and—But there—there are many reasons. For one thing it is my duty to get it for you."
"Wouldn't you like to jump down for it?" she asked mischievously. "Listen."
She stooped for a stone and dropped it down.
"Fancy being where that is now," she said, peering into the blackness; "fancy going round and round like a mouse in a pail, clutching at the slimy sides, with the water filling your mouth, and looking up to the little patch of sky above."
"You had better come in," said Benson, very quietly. "You are developing a taste for the morbid and horrible."