as afraid he would. This pocket-book was in
that bureau drawer till Charles came to-night. He went there and tried
to get it. I don't know but he would have got it if my nuss hadn't come
in. He said he was coming again to-morrow morning, and would have the
money; so I got up, and put the pocket-book under my pillow."

"Certainly he wouldn't take it away from you," I added, shocked at the
old lady's story.

"I don't know's he would, but I was afraid on't."

"But you haven't forty thousand dollars here."

"There's the bonds, which will sell for all they cost me, and more too,
besides the interest on 'em; and it would all come to over thirty
thousand. Charles offers to give me a mortgage on his lands worth three
times the amount, and pay me ten per cent. interest besides."

"Why don't you do it, then?"

"I don't believe in his lands. Because folks say he's got bit in his
lands, and can't sell for what he gin for 'em, though he says they will
fetch three times what they cost him. If they'd fetch what he gin for
'em he'd sell 'em. I almost know he's got bit on 'em. But he can't have
my money; he owes me ten thousand dollars now. I've worked hard for
what little I've got, and I ain't a goin' to have it fooled away in no
land speculation."

It seemed to me that the old lady understood her son's case perfectly;
and my own observation fully confirmed her statement. The junior
partner was certainly in a tight place.

"My two married daughters, that need the money more'n Charles does,
would never get a cent of my property if I should let him have it. I
ain't a goin' to do it, not if I should die afore mornin'."

"I don't think you are in any immediate danger, Mrs. Whippleton," I
replied; and I did not believe that one who could talk as fast as she
did was in any present peril.

"But Charles will pester the life out of me to get this money and these
papers. I'm afraid he's been doin' something that's wrong."

"What do you wish me to do for you?"

"I'll tell you, Philip. I know you're honest, and I will trust you just
as far as any human bein' can be trusted," she continued; but she
paused again, and I concluded that she was not quite satisfied to trust
even me.

"You believe I can trust you--don't you?" she added, taking the
valuable package from under the bed-clothes.

"You must be your own judge, Mrs. Whippleton."

"I know I can!" she exclaimed, suddenly. "You would not rob a poor
woman who is on her dying bed.