CHAPTER XVIII
TOM LETS THE CAT OUT OF THE BAG
While they were having supper in Uncle Jeb's cabin, Tom hauled out of his trousers pocket a couple of very much folded and gather crumbled pieces of paper.
"Will you keep them for me?" he asked. "They're Liberty Bonds. They get all sweaty and crumpled in my pocket. They're worth a hundred dollars."
Mr. Burton had more than once suggested that Tom keep these precious mementos of his patriotism in the safe, but there was no place in all the world in which Tom had such abiding faith as his trouser side pockets, and he had never been able to appreciate the inappropriateness of the singular receptacle for such important documents. There, at least, he could feel them, and the magic feel of these badges of his wealth was better than lock and key.
"Keep them for me until I go away," he said.
Uncle Jeb straightened them out and placed them in his tin strong box.
"Yer ain't thinkin' uv stayin' on, then?" he queried.
"Not after I'm finished," Tom said.