[CHAPTER XI.
AT THE SAVINGS BANK.]
Old Jerry laid down Paul’s coat, and opened the bank book, of which he had just obtained possession. He was eager to ascertain how much Paul had saved up.
“Forty dollars!”
He could hardly believe his eyes.
How in the world could Paul have managed to save up forty dollars?
“Forty dollars!” exclaimed old Jerry, gleefully. “I’m in luck for once. Of course it belongs to me. I am Paul’s guardian, and have a right to his earnings. He shouldn’t have kept it from me. I—I will go to the bank and draw it all tomorrow. Then I will put it in in my own name. That will make it all right.” And old Jerry rubbed his hands joyfully.
After this theft, for it can be called by no other name, Jerry did not sleep much. He was too much excited by the unexpected magnitude of his discovery, and by his delight at adding so much to his own hoards. Then, again, he was afraid Paul might wake up, and, discovering his loss, demand from him the restitution of the book.
Generally Paul rose at six o’clock, as this enabled him to get his breakfast and get round to the telegraph company at seven. He generally waked about fifteen minutes before the hour, such was the force of habit.