"You wouldn't do that, Reginald? He would be awful mad with me, and you wouldn't get your money, either." "I must do something. I can't afford to lose the money." "Just wait a day or two. I'll see what I can do." "Mind you do something, then." Percy regretted that he had ever made the acquaintance of Reginald Ward, or consented to play poker with him, but the regret came too late. The mischief was done, and he saw from Ward's determined look that he must do something. He was just in that frame of mind when temptations have the most power. In the evening he went to the village store to purchase a fishing-line, for he had made an arrangement to go out fishing with Reginald Ward the next day. He made the purchase, and was about to go when his eye caught sight of a twenty-dollar bill lying on the desk. Mr. Jones had gone to the other end of the store, and no one was looking. On the impulse of the moment he seized the bill, and with his heart beating quickly, he left the store. As he passed through the door Bert Barton entered with a kerosene can in his hand, and walked up to the counter, taking his stand near the desk. CHAPTER XI. THE TWENTY-DOLLAR BILL. In order to understand what followed, it is necessary to explain that the evening previous Bert and his mother found themselves out of money. About a dollar was due the latter for covering balls, but it would not be paid for three days, and meanwhile they were in an embarrassing condition. "What shall we do?" asked Mrs. Barton, with a troubled look. "If Uncle Jacob were only here, I would ask his advice." "He left a note to be opened if we got into trouble," said Bert, brightening up. "So he did. Do you think the time has come, Bert?" "I have no doubt of it. Where is it, mother?" "I put it in a bureau drawer in my room." "Shall I go up and get it?" "No; I will do so, as I know exactly where it is." She went upstairs, and returned almost immediately with the letter in her hand. Bert produced his knife and cut open the envelope at one end. Then, drawing out the contents, he found them to be a half sheet of note paper and a bank bill. "It's a twenty-dollar bill, mother!" he exclaimed joyfully. "Shall I read the note?" "Yes, read it, Bert." Bert read as follows: MY DEAR NIECE: As I know your income is small, and you are liable, in case of sickness or loss of employment to need help, I put a twenty-dollar bill into this envelope, which I wish you to use freely. Do not fear that it will inconvenience me to give it. My health is good, and I hope to earn my living for years to come. Your affectionate uncle, JACOB MARLOWE. "Dear Uncle Jacob," said the widow gratefully, "how good and kind he is. With his small savings I don't feel that he can afford to be so generous." "I will pay him back some time, mother." "You think then that we are justified in using it, Bert?"