areful where you put it. It would be hardly wise
to carry it about with you, if you don't mean to turn it into money at
present."

Jacob was troubled at the question, yet he could hardly tell why; he
answered, however,--

"Well, Mayster Frank, I'm not thinking of meddling with my nuggets at
present."

"Hadn't you better then leave them with me till you return?" asked
Frank.

Poor Jacob was sorely puzzled what to reply. He looked down, and there
was an awkward pause. At last he said,--

"I cannot rightly tell what'll be the best to do. Mayster Oldfield, you
mustn't be offended, but I'd better be plain and outspoken. You'd not
mean to wrong me of a farthing, I know; but you must be well aware
you're not always your own mayster. So if you cannot keep your own
brass safe, I can hardly think it wise to trust you to take charge of
mine. I don't wish to vex you, Mayster Frank, but that's just the
honest truth."

"Quite right, Jacob, quite right," said his master, laughing; "you don't
vex me at all. I should do just the same, if I were in your place.
Suppose, then, you give your bag in charge to our landlady the morning
you start; that'll be soon enough, for, poor soul, she'll be glad, I
daresay, not to have charge of other folk's treasure a day longer than
necessary; and I'll be a witness that you give it into her charge."

"Thank you, mayster," said Jacob, greatly relieved; "that's good advice,
and I'll follow it."

The next evening, the last before Jacob's expedition, Frank again
remained at home. He had been out all the morning. Jacob looked
anxiously at him when he returned. He clearly had not been drinking--at
any rate immoderately--yet there was something in his look which Jacob
could not fathom, and if ever Frank met his servant's eye, his own
immediately fell.

"I'm not satisfied as all's right," said Jacob to himself, "and yet I
cannot tell what's amiss."

That night his sleep was restless and disturbed. Once he fancied that
his door was opened, and that his master appeared and drew back again.
Their rooms were on the opposite sides of the same landing. Again he
fancied, or dreamt, that a hand passed under his pillow, where he kept
his nuggets. It was quite dark--he started up and felt for the bag; it
was there quite safe, and he laid him down again. But yet again he
seemed to feel a hand behind his pillow.

"I must have been dreaming," he muttered to himself; "the bag's right."

Yes, t