Then came the thought, "What was he to do with his money?"

Now, it so happened that Harry was the possessor of two
pocketbooks--one--shabby, and well worn, which he had failed to throw
away on buying another just before he left home. In connection with
this, a scheme for outwitting Mr. Fox came into his mind. He folded up
a fragment of newspaper, and put it into the old pocketbook, bulging
it out till it looked well filled, and this he left in the pocket of
his pantaloons.

"Now to hide the other," said he to himself.

He looked about the room seeking for some place of concealment.
Finally he noticed in one portion of the floor a square board, which
looked as if it might be lifted. He stooped over and succeeded in
raising it. The space beneath was about a foot in depth--the lower
level being the lathing and plastering of the room below.

"That will do," said Harry, in a tone of satisfaction. "I don't think
Mr. Fox will find my money here," and dropping the pocketbook into the
cavity he replaced the square board. Then he went to bed and awaited
results.

When Harry had gone up to his bed, Mr. and Mrs. Fox naturally began to
compare notes respecting him.

"That new boy rides a high horse," said Mrs. Fox, grimly. "Are you
going to allow it?"