"I'se gwine draw a check on de bank in Fa'hplay to cobber de whole 'posit," returned Joe, with dignity; "I done axed the cashier 'bout hit, an' he tole me w'at ter do. He gin me some papers w'at he called blanket checks, an' tole me how to fill 'em out. I'se done been keepin' ob 'em safe." In proof of which statement Joe drew an old-fashioned leather wallet from an inner pocket of his ragged coat, undid the strap with which it was bound, and, opening it, carefully extracted therefrom two or three bits of paper, that a glance sufficed to show were blank checks on the First National Bank of Fairplay. While he was getting the checks out another paper, loosely folded and yellow with age, slipped from the wallet, falling to the hearth. As it fell there slid from its loose folds a soft curl of long, bright hair, of the exact hue of little Ralph's. Stooping, Jessie picked up the shining tendril, pausing to twine it gently around her finger before tendering it to Joe. "Ralph's hair is a little darker, I believe, than it was when you cut this, Joe," she remarked, going to the light for a nearer view. "Dat ar' cu'l didn' grow on dis Ralph's head, honey; I cut dat offen de head ob dat odder Ralph w'at's a lyin' in de grabeya'd, w'en he was littler dan dis one; an' I'se 'done carried dat cu'l close to my heart fo' upwa'ds ob fo'ty yeah," responded Joe simply, as he took the bit of hair from Jessie's finger, and carefully replaced it. "W'en I dies," he continued, "I ain' carin' w'at sort ob a berryin' I gets, ner w'at sort ob clo'se my ole body is wrapped up in, but I'd like fur to be suah dat dish yer bit o' hair goes inter de groun' wid me." He looked up at us, his beloved young master's children, solemnly and questioningly, as though exacting a promise, which was given, though no words were spoken on either side. Eyes have a language of their own. "Now ef yo'll done fotch me de ink bottle, Miss Leslie, honey, I'se boun' ter fill out dish yer blanket check, same like de cashier done tole me," Joe went on with a business-like change of tone. The ink bottle, with pen and holder, was produced and placed on the table which Joe immediately cleared for action by removing every article upon it until he had a clear sweep of some three or four feet, then he sat down and proceeded, slowly, slowly, to fill out the check in Jessie's favor. It was a task that required time and infinite painstaking. We had not known that Joe could write, and I am afraid that, even when he announced that the work was done and the check filled out, we were by no means sure of it, for wonderful indeed were the hieroglyphics through whose agency Joe proclaimed his purpose. There was one thing certain, however, no sane cashier, having once seen that unique signature, could for a moment doubt its authenticity.