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"Godzamin! They an't any silver now." "No? All right, my son. Then I'm telling you fibs." "Show me." "Ah, I don't carry it about with me." "An't got any." And presently, as Graeme lit up, without deigning any answer, "I seen a ghost las' night." "Clever boy! What did you make out of it?" "'Twas the ghost of old Tom Hamon's father. Was all white and dead-like." "You're too previous, Johnnie.
"And if it keeps fine all the time I'll give you let me see, I'll give you a shilling when we go away." Johnnie's avidious little claw reached out eagerly. "Godzamin!" said he. "Gimme it now, an' I'll do my best." "Earn it, my child," said Miss Penny, and they went on up the road, leaving Johnnie scowling in the hedge. "Well, where would you like to go to-day?" asked Graeme.
"Godzamin, he'd eat me if I tried," he said, and lifted his eyes from the dog's, and the dog walked quietly up to Margaret and pushed his great head under her hand. "He's a fine fellow," she said, caressing him. "A most gentlemanly dog," said Miss Penny. "His eyes are absolutely poetical, charged with thoughts too deep for words." "Yes, he's dumb," said Graeme, stooping to pull a long brown ear.
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