Sincerely,
J. B. Martin.”
“How much is it?” gasped Mrs. Treat.
“Fifty dollars, as I live!”
“Of course we cannot accept it?” half questioned his wife.
“I don’t know,” argued Mr. Treat. “I am sure if my baby had been in such peril, I should not like to have his rescuer return the thank-offering I made—the only way a man has to show his appreciation and lasting gratitude, as Mr. Martin says.”
“Let’s keep it to go to the Fair next year. Think what a lot of candy we can have!” suggested Harry eagerly.
“Well, boys, I think we will keep it, but it will go in the bank to be added to the fund Billy has already started for your college educations,” decided Mr. Treat, carefully folding the check and placing it in his pocket-book.
That night after their mother had tucked the covers about them and put out the light, Tom snuggled over close to Harry, and whispered:
“Harry, I’ve thought of a plan!”
“What about?”