He looked at them critically. "How do I know they're good?" he
asked. "You're a stranger to me, young feller, and how do I know you
ain't tryin' to beat me?" He looked sternly at Lemuel, but here the
mate interposed.

"How does _he_ know that you ain't tryin' to beat _him_?"
he asked contemptuously. "I never saw such a feller as you are! Here
you make me run half over town to change that bill, and now when a
gentleman offers to break it for you, you have to go and accuse him
of tryin' to put off counterfeit money on you. If I was him I'd see
you furder."

"Oh, well, I don't want any words about it. Here, take your money,"
said the young man. "As long as I said I'd do it, I'll do it. Here's
your half a dollar." He put it, with the bank-note, into Lemuel's
hand, and rose briskly. "You stay here, Jimmy, till I come back. I
won't be gone a minute."

He walked down the mall, and went out of the gate on Tremont Street.
Then the mate came to himself. "Why, I've _let_ him go off with
both them bills now, and he owes me one of 'em." With that he rose
from Lemuel's side and hurried after his vanishing comrade; before
he was out of sight he had broken into a run.

Lemuel sat looking after them, his satisfaction in the affair
alloyed by dislike of the haste with which it had been transacted.
His rustic mind worked slowly; it was not wholly content even with a
result in its own favour, where the process had been so rapid; he
was scarcely able to fix the point at which the talk ceased to be a
warning against beats and became his opportunity for speculation. He