“I would like to look at your watches,” said Melville to the salesman who came forward to inquire his wishes. “Gold or silver, sir?” “Silver.” “This way, if you please.” He led the way to a case where through the glass covering Herbert saw dozens of silver watches of all sizes and grades lying ready for inspection. “For what price can I get a fair silver watch?” asked Melville. “Swiss or Waltham?” “Waltham. I may as well patronize home manufactures.” “Here is a watch I will sell you for fifteen dollars,” said the salesman, drawing out a neat-looking watch, of medium size. “It will keep excellent time, and give you good satisfaction.” “Very well; I will buy it on your recommendation. Have you any silver chains?” One was selected of pretty pattern, and George Melville paid for both. “How do you like the watch and chain, Herbert?” said his employer, as they left the store. “They are very pretty, sir.” “I suppose you wonder what I want of two watches,” said Melville. “Perhaps you don't like to take your gold watch with you when you go out West, for fear of thieves.” “No, that is not the reason. If I am so unfortunate as to lose my gold watch, I will buy another. The fact is, I have bought this silver watch and chain for you.” “For me!” exclaimed Herbert, intensely delighted. “Yes; it will be convenient for you, as well as me, to be provided with a watch. Every traveler needs one. There; put it in your pocket, and see how it looks.” “You are very kind to me, Mr. Melville,” said Herbert, gratefully. “You couldn't have bought me anything which I should value more.” When Herbert had arranged the watch and chain to suit him, it must be confessed that it engrossed a large part of his attention, and it was wonderful how often he had occasion to consult it during the first walk after it came into his possession. CHAPTER XVIII. A THIEF IN TROUBLE. “Have you ever visited the suburbs of Boston?” asked Melville. “No,” answered Herbert. “I know very little of the city, and nothing of the towns near it.” “Then, as we have time to spare, we will board the next horse car and ride out to Roxbury.” “I should like it very much, Mr. Melville,” said Herbert, in a tone of satisfaction. I may remark that Roxbury was at that time a separate municipality, and had not been annexed to Boston. They did not have to wait long for a car. An open car, of the kind in common use during the pleasant season, drew near, and they secured seats in it. After leaving Dover Street, Washington Street, still then narrow, broadens into a wide avenue, and is called the Neck. It was gay with vehicles of all sorts, and Herbert found much to attract his attention. “The doctor tells me I ought to be a good deal in the open air,” said Melville, “and I thought I would act at once upon his suggestion. It is much pleasanter than taking medicine.” “I should think so,” answered Herbert, emphatically.