ece; for the
pawnbroker seemed to deal in old bric-a-brac and what not, besides his
regular historic business of money-lending.

"I vill gif you dat box for vun hundert dollars,--mit dat it iss a
gift," the shopkeeper was saying doggedly, as he came toward Nancy, and
the other man, following him, laughed.

"Well, you certainly give awfully expensive presents," he remarked. "A
hundred dollars, you old rascal--no one on earth would give that for a
little box."

"Vell, only try to duplicate it--you vill not find such a handsome
piece dis side de ocean," returned the shopkeeper with a shrug. "Vot
can I do for you, young lady?"

But Nancy had temporarily lost all power of speech. She was not sure,
indeed, that she wasn't dreaming--it was all so utterly strange, and
whimsical, and impossible, that surely it could be so only in a dream.
For the young man who had followed the pawnbroker out of the inner room
was George Arnold! She was standing with her back to the door, but the
light that came through the dirty glass shone squarely on his face, so
that if she had not already recognized his voice she would have
recognized his features beyond the shadow of a doubt. Her first
impulse was to turn and fly, or to conceal herself hastily in one of
the odd little sentry boxes, which were evidently designed to preserve
the incognito of the pawnbroker's indigent customers. But already Mr.
Arnold had cast a second curious glance at the unusual sight of a
well-dressed, well-bred young girl in such surroundings, and with that
second glance he had recognized her. His mouth opened slightly in a
repressed gasp of astonishment. Probably, with a moment's thought, he
might have pretended that he had not recognized her, in order to spare
her any embarrassment, but he had already exclaimed, involuntarily:

"Why, Miss Prescott!" and had taken a step toward her. Nancy turned
scarlet, and could only gaze at him helplessly.

"How can I serve you, young lady?" repeated the shopkeeper. Nancy
hesitated, in a perfect agony of embarrassment, while Mr. Arnold
continued to look at her, evidently very much at a loss. On the one
hand, he disliked to discomfit her by being present while she
transacted her business with old Zeigler, the pawnbroker, and on the
other, he was equally unwilling to leave her to be swindled, as she
very probably would be. Furthermore, while he realized that he had no
business to inquire into her affairs, and that, to