mother, and he had only a vague knowledge of the papers entrusted to it. Among the yellowed slips was the marriage certificate of his parents, and he knew that there were one or two letters. When Joseph Peabody had taken him from the poorhouse, the lad had buried the box for safe-keeping, and during the three or four years he had been with Mr. Peabody had never taken it up.
It was not buried very deeply, and he easily uncovered it, smoothing down the earth to hide the traces of his hasty excavating. He went around to Betty's window and whistled softly, half hoping that she might be asleep.
"Hello, Bob dear!" she called instantly, leaning from the window, her vivid face so alight with affection and hope for him that it was a pity he could not see her clearly. "I'm wishing you the best of luck, and I hope the old bookstore man has splendid news for you. You wait for me in Washington."
"I will!" whispered Bob heartily. "And you tell Mr. Bender, won't you? He'll understand. I'll write him the first chance I get, and Doc Guerin, too. Good-by, Betty—I—I"
To his surprise and confusion, Bob suddenly choked.
"Here's something to take with you," said Betty softly, dropping a little packet that landed
