“That will do,” said Harry, in a tone of satisfaction. “I don’t think Mr. Fox will find my money here,” and dropping the pocketbook into the cavity he replaced the square board. Then he went to bed and awaited results. When Harry had gone up to his bed, Mr. and Mrs. Fox naturally began to compare notes respecting him. “That new boy rides a high horse,” said Mrs. Fox, grimly. “Are you going to allow it?” “Certainly not.” “He wouldn’t give up his money to you, though you are his guardeen.” “Very true, but I mean to have it all the same. I shall go up to his bedroom after he is asleep, and then it will be the easiest thing in the world to take the pocketbook without his knowin’ anything about it.” “He’ll know it in the mornin’.” “Let him! Possession is nine p’ints of the law, Mrs. Fox.” “He might say you stole it.” “He can’t do that, for I’m his guardeen, don’t you see?” A little after ten Mr. Fox, considering that Harry must be sound asleep, decided to make him a visit. He removed his shoes, and in his stocking feet, candle in hand, began to ascend the narrow and steep staircase which led to the attic. “Shall I go with you, John?” queried his helpmeet. “No, I guess I can manage alone.” His wife wanted to share in the excitement of the night visit. There was something alluring in the thought of creeping upstairs, and removing by stealth, the pocketbook of the new inmate of their home. Left to himself, Mr. Fox pursued his way up the attic stairs. They creaked a little under his weight, and, much to his annoyance, when he reached the landing at the top he coughed. “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.