"Better wait a bit and see, sir," cried I; "though it's a queer present, I do say."
Well, it was no good talking to him; he was that excited about it already that he would have had the wine if his last guinea had bought it. I've known him before now to crack a bottle of champagne when he found a horseshoe in the road; and he always was one to be up or down like an umbrella. The least thing would send him laughing or crying; and this queer present, coming at a time when the money was very low, was quite enough. By the time I'd got the champagne he was singing at the top of his voice. What's more, the golden egg was open, and as I put the wine on the table I caught sight of the portrait of a woman lying in the heart of it.
"So, sir," said I, "you've found out all about it?"
"Yes," said he, coming to a stop suddenly, "it's only a locket, after all. Open the fizz, will you? my mouth's like a sandhill."
Now, it seemed to me queer that he should be so silent about it, but he never did talk to me when a woman was in the case. And it wasn't for me to say any thing when he held his tongue. So I uncorked the wine, and was pouring him out a glass, when Jack Ames opened the door and walked straight into the room.
"Halloa," said he, "at it already, Nicky, my boy! What's fresh now, then?"
"There's nothing fresh that I know of," answered
