"I met a man on my way home, who asked me to keep it for him."

 

"Do you know the man?" asked his mother, in surprise.

 

"No," answered Luke.

 

"It seems very singular. What did he say?"

 

"He said that he was obliged to leave the neighborhood at once, and could not conveniently carry the box."

 

"Do you think it contains anything of value?"

 

"Yes, mother. It is like the boxes rich men have to hold their stocks and bonds. I was at the bank one day, and saw a gentleman bring in one to deposit in the safe."

 

"I can't understand that at all, Luke. You say you did not know this man?"

 

"I never met him before."

 

"And, of course, he does not know you?"

 

"No, for he asked my name."

 

"Yet he put what may be valuable property in your possession."

 

"I think," said Luke, shrewdly, "he had no one else to trust it to. Besides, a country boy wouldn't be very likely to make use of stocks and bonds."

 

"No, that is true. I suppose the tin box is locked?"

 

"Yes, mother. The owner—he says his name is Roland Reed—wishes it put under lock and key."

 

"I can lock it up in my trunk, Luke."

 

"I think that will be a good idea."

 

"I hope he will pay you for your trouble when he takes away the tin box."

 

"He has already. I forgot to mention it," and Luke drew from his vest pocket, the bank-note he had thrust in as soon as received. "Why, it's a ten-dollar bill!" he exclaimed. "I wonder whether he knew he was giving me as much?"

 

"I presume so, Luke," said his mother, brightening up. "You are in luck!"

 

"Take it, mother. You will find a use for it."

 

"But, Luke, this money is yours."

 

"No, it is yours, for you are going to take care of the box."

 

It was, indeed, quite a windfall, and both mother and son

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