"Oh, I'm ruined! I'm undone!" lamented Ben, when he found that his secret had been discovered.
"I don't see how you are."
"I shall be robbed. There's only a little there—only a few dollars to bury me."
"I guess you mean to have a tall funeral, then," said Tony, coolly. "There's as much as a thousand dollars there."
"No, no—only fifty," answered the old man.
"There's no use talking, I know better. If you don't believe it, suppose I take up the bags and count the pieces."
"No, no!"
"Just as you say. All is, you've got plenty of money, and I know it, and if you ain't willing to use some of it, I'll go off and leave you alone."
"Don't go," said Ben, hastily. "You're a good boy. You wouldn't rob a poor old man, would you?"
"Nor a rich old man either; but I don't mean to starve. So give me fifty cents, and I'll go over to the store and get some fresh bread and butter, and tea and sugar."