[Illustration: 'Did you ever see a more beautiful binding?']

"I don't understand," I said, as though I had not heard his last
question, "how you dare go about with all this treasure upon you. Are
you not afraid of being stopped in the road and robbed? Why, I've seen
the time when, if I had known you carried such things as these, such
cures for sick hearts, I think I should have stopped you myself!"

"Say, you _are_ an odd one," said Mr. Dixon.

"Why do you sell such priceless things as these?" I asked, looking at
him sharply.

"Why do I sell them?" and he looked still more perplexed. "To make
money, of course; same reason you raise corn."

"But here is wealth," I said, pursuing my advantage. "If you have these
you have something more valuable than money."

Mr. Dixon politely said nothing. Like a wise angler, having failed to
land me at the first rush, he let me have line. Then I thought of
Ruskin's words, "Nor can any noble thing be wealth except to a noble
person." And that prompted me to say to Mr. Dixon:

"These things are not yours; they are mine. You never owned them; but I
will sell them to you."

He looked at me in amazement, and then glanced around--evidently to
discover if there were a convenient way of escape.