"In other words, I have bought a tin can," said Festus Clasby, and his
frame and the entire cart shook with his chuckling.

The tinker's wife chuckled with him in harmony. Then she reached out her
hand with a gesture that claimed a sympathetic examination of the
purchase. Festus Clasby hesitated, looking into the eyes of the woman.
Was she to be trusted? Her eyes were clear, grey, and open, almost
babyish in their rounded innocence. Festus Clasby handed her the tin
can, and she examined it slowly.

"Who sold you the Can with the Diamond Notch?" she asked.

"The man standing by your side."

"He has wronged you. The can is not his."

"He says he made it."

"Liar! He never curved it in the piece."

"I don't much care whether he did or not. It is mine now, anyhow."

"It is my brother's can. No other hand made it. Look! Do you see this
notch on the piece of sheet iron where the handle is fastened to the
sides?"

"I do."

"Is it not shaped like a diamond?"