Such a clock as this must have cost a good deal, I am sure."

"No, no, child! It's very different, different. Clock wasn't any use to
me, wasn't wuth any thin'. Money's of use, use, use. Can't have enough
on't. People get it all away from you. They're wolves, wolves, wolves,"
replied the old man, running along in advance of Mercy, and rapping one of
the men who were carrying the clock, sharply on his shoulder.

"Keep your end up there! keep it up! I won't pay you, if you don't carry
your half," he exclaimed.

It was a droll procession, and everybody turned to look at it: the two
ragged men carrying the quaint-fashioned old clock, from which the dust
shook off at every jolt, revealing the carved scrolls and figures upon it:
following them, Mercy, with her expressive face full of mirth and
excitement; and the old man, now ahead, now lagging behind, now talking in
an eager and animated manner with Mercy, now breaking off to admonish or
chastise the bearers of the clock. The eccentric old fellow used his cane
as freely as if it had been a hand. There were few boys in town who had
not felt its weight; and his more familiar acquaintances knew the touch of
it far better than they knew the grip of his fingers. It "saved steps," he
used to say; though of steps the old man seemed any thing but chary, as he
was in the habit of taking them perpetually, without advancing or
retreating, changing from one foot to the other, as uneasily as a goose
does.

Stephen White happened to be looking out of the window, when this unique
procession of the clock passed his office. He could not believe what he
saw. He threw up the window and leaned out, to assure himself that he was
not mistaken. Mercy heard the sound, looked up, and met Stephen's eye. She