Meanwhile, Harry reached Mr. Leavitt's unconscious of the serious misfortune which had befallen him. He went into the sitting room and talked a while with Mr. Leavitt, and at ten o'clock took his lamp and went up to bed. While he was undressing he felt in his pocket for his money, intending to lock it up in his trunk as usual. His dismay may be conceived when he could not find it.
Poor Harry sank into a chair with that sudden sinking of the heart which unlooked-for misfortune brings and tried to think where he could have left the pocketbook.
That evening he found himself under the necessity of buying a necktie at the store, and so had taken it from his trunk. Could he have left it on the counter? No; he distinctly remembered replacing it in his pocket. He felt the need of consulting with somebody, and with his lamp in his hand went downstairs again.
"You haven't concluded to sit up all night, have you?" asked Mr. Leavitt, surprised at his reappearance.
"Are you sick, Harry?" asked Mrs. Leavitt. "You're looking dreadfully pale."
"I've lost my pocketbook," said Harry..
"How much was there in it?" asked his employer.
"Thirty-three dollars," answered Harry.
"Whew! that's a good deal of money to lose. I shouldn't want to lose so much myself. When did you have it last?"
Harry told his story, Mr. Leavitt listening attentively