ated Ben, with a pause between
each word, as if he could not understand that which he himself was
saying.

"Yes," sobbed Toby, as he shook out the remaining contents of the bag,
"there's only half a dollar, an' all the rest is gone."

"The rest gone!" again repeated Ben. "But how come the monkey to have
the money?"

"He tried to get at it out in the woods, an' I s'pose the moment I got
asleep he felt for it in my pockets. This is all there is left, an' he
threw away some just as I woke up."

Again Toby held the bag up where Ben could see it, and again his grief
broke out anew.

Ben could say nothing; he realized the whole situation--that the monkey
had got the moneybag while Toby was sleeping; that in his play he had
thrown it away piece by piece; and he knew that that small amount of
silver represented liberty in the boy's eyes. He felt that there was
nothing he could say which would assuage Toby's grief, and he remained
silent.

"Don't you s'pose we could go back an' get it?" asked the boy, after the
intensity of his grief had somewhat subsided.

"No, Toby, it's gone," replied Ben, sorrowfully. "You couldn't find it
if it was daylight, an' you don't stand a ghost of a chance now in the
dark. Don't take on so, my boy. I'll see if we can't make it up to you
in some way."

Toby gave no heed to this last remark of Ben's. He hugged the monkey
convulsively to his breast, as if he would seek consolation from the
very one who had wrought the ruin, and, rocking himself to and fro, he
said, in a voice full of tears and sorrow:

"Oh, Mr. Stubbs, why did you do it?--why did you do it? That money would
have got us away from this hateful place, an' we'd have gone back to
Uncle Dan'l's, where we'd have been so happy, you an' me. An' now it's
all gone--all gone. What made you, Mr. Stubbs--what made you do such a
bad, cruel thing? Oh, what made you?"

"Don't, Toby--don't take on so," said Ben, soothingly. "There wasn't so
very much money there, after all, an' you'll soon get as much more."

"But it won't be for a good while, an' we could have been in the good
old home long before I can get so much again."

"That's true, my boy; but you must kinder brace up an' not give way so
about it. Perhaps I can fix it so the fellers will make it up to you.
Give Stubbs a good poundin', an' perhaps that 'll make you feel better."

"That won't bring back my money an' I don't want to whip him," cried
Toby, hugging his pet the closer