Part 5 (1/2)

”I hope the boy won't hear me,” he said to himself.

He paused an instant, then softly opened the door of Harry's chamber.

All seemed satisfactory. Our hero was lying quietly in bed, apparently in a peaceful sleep. Ordinarily he would have been fast asleep by this time, but the expectation of a visit from his guardian had kept him awake beyond his usual time. He had heard Mr. Fox cough, and so, even before the door opened, he had warning of the visit.

Harry was not a nervous boy, and had such command of himself, that, even when Mr. Fox bent over, and, by the light of the candle, examined his face, he never stirred nor winked, though he very much wanted to laugh.

”All is safe! The boy is sound asleep,” whispered Mr. Fox to himself.

He set the candle on the floor, and then taking up Harry's pantaloons, thrust his hand into the pocket.

The very first pocket contained the pocketbook which our hero had put there. Mr. Fox would have opened and examined the contents on the spot, but he heard a cough from the bed, and, quickly put the pocketbook into his own pocket, apprehending that his ward might wake up, and taking up the candle, noiselessly withdrew from the chamber.

After he had fairly gone, Harry had a quiet laugh to himself.

Mr. Fox returned in triumph to his own chamber, where his wife was anxiously waiting for him.

”Have you got it, Mr. F.,” she asked, eagerly.

”Got it? Why shouldn't I get it?”

”Well, open it, and let us see what it contains.”

This Mr. Fox proceeded to do. But no sooner did his glance rest on its contents than his lower jaw fell, and his eyes opened wide in perplexity.

”Well, what are you staring at like a fool?” demanded his wife, who was not so situated that she could see the contents of the pocketbook.

”Look at this, Mrs. F.,” said her husband, in a hollow voice. ”There's no money here--only this piece of newspaper.”

”Well, well, of all the fools I ever saw you are about the most stupid!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mrs. Fox. ”What you undertake you generally carry through, do you? After all the fuss you've brought down a pocketbook stuffed with waste paper.”

”I don't understand it,” said Fox, his face a.s.suming a look of perplexity. ”Surely the boy told the truth when he said he had fifteen dollars.”

”Of course! Joel saw the money--a roll of bills, and saw him take them out of his pocketbook. He must have taken them out. Did you search all his pockets?”

”No; when I found the pocketbook I thought I was all right.”

”Just like a man!” retorted Mrs. Fox. ”I'll go up myself, and see if I can't manage better than you.”

”Then you'd better take this wallet, and put it back in his pocket.”

”Give it to me, then.”

With a firm step Mrs. Fox took the candle, and took her turn in going up the attic stairs.

CHAPTER IV

MRS. FOX COMES TO GRIEF