"So you shall now, Jacob. It don't cost much. Now lie down again, and I'll take these dishes down to Mrs. Flanagan." Tom speedily reappeared, and said, cheerfully: "If there's nothing more you want, Jacob, I'll go out and look out for work. Mrs. Flanagan will bring you up some toast at noon, and I'll be back at six o'clock." "All right, Tom. Go to work, there's a good boy. It costs a sight of money to live." Tom seized his blacking-box and hurried down stairs. He had delayed longer than he intended, and was resolved to make up for lost time. CHAPTER II. STRUCK DOWN. No sooner had Tom left the room than the old man rose slowly from his couch, and, walking feebly to the door, bolted it; then, going to a corner of the room, he lifted a plank from the flooring, and, thrusting his hand beneath, drew up a tin box. He opened this with a small key which he wore about his neck, suspended by a cord, and revealed a heap of silver and copper coins, filling the box two-thirds full. Upon this his eyes were fixed with eager and gloating satisfaction. "It's all mine!" he muttered, joyfully. "Tom doesn't know about it. He mustn't know--he might want me to spend it. I will count it." He took it out by handfuls, and began to count it for at least the hundredth time, putting together coins of similar value in little piles, till there was a circle of silver and copper about him. It was a work of time for the old man, and probably half an hour was consumed before he had finished his task. "Ninety-nine dollars!" he exclaimed, in alarm, at the end of the calculation. "Somebody has robbed me; I ought to have twenty-five cents more. Could Tom have got at the box? Maybe I have made a mistake. I will count again." With nervous fingers he recommenced the count, fearing that he had met with a loss. He was half through his task, when a knock was heard at the door. The old man started in agitation, and glanced apprehensively at the door. "Who's there?" he asked, in quivering accents. "It's I," answered a hearty voice, which Jacob readily recognized as that of Mrs. Flanagan. "You can't come in," said the old man, peevishly. "What do you want?" "I only came to ask how ye are, and if I can do anything for ye." "No, you can't. I'm well--no, I'm sick, and I'd rather be left alone." "All right," said the good woman, in no wise offended, for she pitied the old man. "If you want anything, jist _stomp_ on the floor, and I'll hear ye, and come up." "Yes," said Jacob, hastily. "Now go down--that's a good woman. I want to go to sleep." "Poor craythur!" said Mrs. Flanagan, to herself. "It's little he enjoys the world, which is a blessin', as he will soon have to lave it." "I hope she isn't looking through the keyhole," thought Jacob, in alarm. "She might see my money." But the footsteps of the good woman descending the stairs came to his ears, and reassured him.