"See
what a fine piece of work they made of it."
The old man took from the table drawer a long leather case, drew out
another pair of spectacles which he exchanged for the ones he was
already wearing, and after scrutinizing the buckle and scowling at it
for an interval he carried it to the window.
"What's the matter?" Bob demanded, instantly alert. "Isn't the
repairing properly done?"
"'Tain't the repairin' I'm lookin' at," Willie returned slowly. "I've
no quarrel with that."
Still he continued to twist and turn the disc of silver, now holding it
at arm's length, now bringing it close to his eye with a puzzled
intentness.
Robert Morton could stand the suspense no longer.
"What's wrong with it?" he at last burst out.
Willie did not look up but evidently he caught the note of impatience
in the younger man's tone, for he drawled quizzically:
"Don't it strike you as a mite peculiar that a buckle should go to
Boston with D. L. H. on it an' come home marked C. L. G.?"
"_What_!"
"That's what's on it--C. L. G.
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