ook at it; "if that ain't a
fair treat! There's many a swell bloke 'ud give 'arf a dollar for that
to put 'is baccy in. You've got a trade, my son, that's sure. Why didn't
you let on before as you could? Blow the beastly match! It's burned me
finger."

The match went out and Beale and Dickie went back to supper in the
crowded, gas-lit room. When supper was over--it was tripe and onions and
fried potatoes, very luxurious--Beale got up and stood before the fire.

"I'm a-goin' to 'ave a hauction, I am," he said to the company at large.
"Here's a thing and a very pretty thing, a baccy-box, or a snuff-box,
or a box to shut yer gold money in, or yer diamonds. What offers?"

"'And it round," said a black-browed woman, with a basket covered in
American cloth no blacker than her eyes.

"That I will," said Beale readily. "I'll 'and it round _in_ me 'and. And
I'll do the 'andin' meself."

He took it round from one to another, showed the neat corners, the neat
carving, the neat fit of the square lid.

"Where'd yer nick that?" asked a man with a red handkerchief.

"The nipper made it."

"Pinched it more likely," some one said.

"I see 'im make it," said Beale, frowning a little.

"Let me 'ave a squint," said a dingy gray old man sitting apart. For
some reason of his own Beale let the old man take the box into his hand.
But he kept very close to him and he kept his eyes on the box.

"All outer one piece," said the old man. "I dunno oo made it an' I don't
care, but that was made by a workman as know'd his trade. I was a
cabinet-maker once, though you wouldn't think it to look at me. There
ain't nobody here to pay what that little hobjec's worth. Hoil it up
with a drop of cold linseed and leave it all night, and then in the
morning you rub it on yer trouser leg to shine it, and then rub it in
the mud to dirty it, and then hoil it again and dirty it again, and
you'll get 'arf a thick 'un for it as a genuwine hold antique. That's
wot you do."

"Thankee, daddy," said Beale, "an' so I will."

He slipped the box in his pocket. When Dickie next saw the box it looked
as old as any box need look.

"Now we'll look out for a shop where they sells these 'ere hold antics,"
said Beale. They were on the road and their faces were set towards
London. Dickie's face looked pinched and white. Beale noticed it.

"You don't look up to much," he said; "warn't your bed to your liking?"

"The bed was all right," said Dickie, thinking of the