took out two ten-dollar gold pieces. "I'll go twenty better," he said,
laying them down on the desk. "That'll give you a chance to look around.
Come back here, if you don't see your way clear." He dipped his pen into
the ink with a significant gesture as if closing the interview.
Clarence pushed back the coin. "I'm not a beggar," he said doggedly.
The man this time raised his head and surveyed the boy with two keen
eyes. "You're not, hey? Well, do I look like one?"
"No," stammered Clarence, as he glanced into the man's haughty eyes.
"Yet, if I were in your fix, I'd take that money and be glad to get it."
"If you'll let me pay you back again," said Clarence, a little ashamed,
and considerably frightened at his implied accusation of the man before
him.
"You can," said the man, bending over his desk again.
Clarence took up the money and awkwardly drew out his purse. But it was
the first time he had touched it since it was returned to him in the
bar-room, and it struck him that it was heavy and full--indeed, so
full that on opening it a few coins rolled out on to the floor. The man
looked up abruptly.
"I thought you said you had only twenty dollars?" he remarked grimly.
"Mr. Peyton gave me forty," returned Clarence, stupefied and blushing.
"I spent twenty dollars for drinks at the bar--and," he stammered,
"I--I--I don't know how the rest came here."
"You spent twenty dollars for DRINKS?" said the man, laying down his
pen, and leaning back in his chair to gaze at the boy.
"Yes--that is--I treated some gentlemen of the stage, sir, at Davidson's
Crossing."
"Did you treat the whole stage company?"
"No, sir, only about four or five--and the bar-keeper. But everything's
so dear in California. I know that."
"Evidently. But it don't seem to make much difference with YOU," said
the man, glancing at the purse.
"They wanted my purse to look at," said Clarence hurriedly, "and that's
how the thing happened. Somebody put HIS OWN MONEY back into MY purse by
accident."
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