It seemed to me that, as I gazed, the wistfulness came back to
his face. I whispered to a woman who was present, and stooping over
him, she was about to--but her eyes were dry, and I stopped her. The
handkerchief was replaced, and all left the room save myself. Again I
raised the handkerchief. I cannot tell you how innocent he looked.'"
"Who was he?" asked Pym.
"Nobody," said Tommy, with some awe; "it just came to me. Do you
notice how simple the wording is? It took me some time to make it so
simple."
"You are just nineteen, I think?"
"Yes."
Pym looked at him wonderingly.
"Thomas," he said, "you are a very queer little devil."
He also said: "And it is possible you may find the treasure you are
always talking about. Don't jump to the ceiling, my friend, because I
say that. I was once after the treasure, myself; and you can see
whether I found it."
From about that time, on the chances that this mysterious treasure
might spring up in the form of a new kind of flower, Pym zealously
cultivated the ground, and Tommy had an industrious time of it. He was
taken off his stories, which at once regained their elasticity, and
put on to exercises.
"If you have nothing to say on the subject, say nothing," was one of
the new rules, which few would have expected from Pym.
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