und in its band of tape, among the papers. He then drove away,
giving Taddy a final charge to beware of setting anything afire.

He had driven about half a mile, when he met a peddler. There was
nothing unusual or alarming in such a circumstance, surely; but, as
Ducklow kept on, it troubled him.

"He'll stop to the house, now, most likely, and want to trade. Findin'
nobody but Taddy, there's no knowin' what he'll be tempted to do. But I
ain't a-goin' to worry. I'll defy anybody to find them bonds. Besides,
she may be home by this time. I guess she'll hear of the fire-alarm and
hurry home: it'll be jest like her. She'll be there, and trade with the
peddler!" thought Ducklow, uneasily. Then a frightful fancy possessed
him. "She has threatened two or three times to sell that old trunkful of
papers. He'll offer a big price for 'em, and ten to one she'll let him
have 'em. Why _didn't_ I think on't? What a stupid blunderbuss I be!"

As Ducklow thought of it, he felt almost certain that Mrs. Ducklow had
returned home, and that she was bargaining with the peddler at that
moment. He fancied her smilingly receiving bright tin-ware for the old
papers; and he could see the tape-tied envelope going into the bag with
the rest. The result was that he turned about and whipped his old mare
home again in terrific haste, to catch the departing peddler.

Arriving, he found the house as he had left it, and Taddy occupied in
making a kite-frame.

"Did that peddler stop here?"

"I hain't seen no peddler."

"And hain't yer Ma Ducklow been home, nuther?"

"No."

And, with a guilty look, Taddy put the kite-frame behind him.

Ducklow considered. The peddler had turned up a cross-street: he would
probably turn down again and stop at the house, after all: Mrs. Ducklow
might by that time be at home: then the sale of old papers would be
very likely to take place. Ducklow thought of leaving word that he did
not wish any old papers in the house to be sold, but feared lest the
request might excite Taddy's suspicions.

"I don't see no way but for me to take the bonds with me," thought he,
with an inward groan.

He accordingly went to the garret, took the envelope out of the trunk,
and placed it in the breast-pocket of his overcoat, to which he pinned
it, to prevent it by any chance from getting out. He used six large,
strong pins for the purpose, and was afterwards sorry he did not use
seven.

"There's suthin' losin' out o' yer pocket!" b