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Rh could not know that. The table happened to be set down just over the hole that had held the roots of the moonflower. Dickie dug a little with a trowel in the blanket house.

After dark they carried the blankets and things in. Then one of the blankets was nailed up over the top-floor window, and on the iron bedstead's dingy mattress the resin was melted from the lid of the pot that Mr. Beale had brought in with the other things from the garden. Also it was melted from the crack of the iron casket. Mr. Beale's eyes, always rather prominent, almost resembled the eyes of the lobster or the snail as their gaze fell on the embroidered leather bag. And when Dickie opened this and showered the twenty gold coins into a hollow of the drab ticking, he closed his eyes and sighed, and opened them again and said— "Give you? They give you that. I don't believe you."

"You got to believe me," said Dickie firmly. "I never told you a lie, did I?"

"Come to think of it, I don't know as you ever did," Beale admitted.

"Well," said Dickie, "they was give me—see?"

"We'll never change 'em, though," said Beale despondently. "We'd get lagged for a cert. They'd say we pinched 'em."

"No, they won't. 'Cause I've got a friend as'll change 'em for me, and then we'll 'ave new clobber and some more furniture, and a carpet and a crockery basin to wash our hands and