Meg looked up with interest when her husband re-entered the room. She had been listening with nervous interest, fearing that there might be violence done. She had been relieved to hear no noise, and to see her husband returning quietly.
"Have you got the pocket-book?" she asked.
"Yes, Meg," he said, displaying it. "He went to bed with his clothes on, but I pulled it out of his pocket, as he lay asleep, and he will be none the wiser."
"How much is there in it?"
"I'm going to see. I haven't opened it yet."
He opened the pocket-book, and uttered a cry of disappointment.
"That's all," he said, displaying the five-dollar bill. "He must have had more."
"He did have more. When he paid me the dollar for stoppin' here, he took it from a roll of bills."
"What's he done with 'em, the young rascal?"