It gave out a dull and leaden sound.
"Bad, beyond a doubt," he said.
"Try it with your knife," said Loring confidently.
The clerk complied.

By mischance he bore on too hard.

The knife went through to the table.
A sound of mirth swept to them.

With horror frozen on their faces, the three rascals were aware of Thompson, leaning in the doorway--unmistakably sober, given up to reprehensible levity, holding out a bright tin pail with an expectant air.
Let us give even the devil his due.

For Mitchell laughed.
THE END.