“Oh, Andy!” she said, “I can’t consent to your exposing yourself to be injured by such wicked men. You must tell the Peabody girls you can’t go to the bank for them again.”

“I don’t think there’ll be any danger, mother, for we have caught the chief burglar, and the other man has run away.”

“There may be more of them,” said Mrs. Gordon, apprehensively¹.

“Bring them along!” replied Andy, smiling. “I am ready for them!”

“I hope we shall never have another of those terrible men visit our village!” said his mother, with a shudder².

“I don’t know about that, mother. I find it pays me. How much do you think the Peabodys are going to give me for my services?”

“Perhaps two dollars,” said Mrs. Gordon, looking at Andy in an inquiring way.

“Do you think two dollars would be pay enough for what I did, mother?”{136}

“No; but boys are not paid as much as men, even where they are entitled to it.”

“There’s nothing mean about the Peabodys, mother. They have promised me more than that.”

“Five dollars, perhaps.”

“You will have to multiply five by ten!” said Andy, triumphantly³.

“You don’t mean to say you are to have fifty dollars?” ejaculated Mrs. Gordon, quite overpowered by surprise.

“Yes, I do. Toward night I’ll go up and get the money. I didn’t want to take it along to the bank, for I might have had that stolen, too.”

“Certainly you are in luck, Andy,” said his mother. “With what came in your poor father’s wallet, we shall be very well off.”

“Especially as we shall not have old Starr’s note to pay. When do you expect the note to be presented?”

“Mr. Ross gave me a week to find the receipt.”

“And the week will be up to-morrow. Well, mother, we will be ready for him when he comes.”

At this moment Andy espied⁴ a letter on the mantelpiece. It was inclosed in a yellow envelope, and addressed in an irregular, tremulous handwriting to his mother.

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