After he had fairly gone, Harry had a quiet laugh to himself.

Mr. Fox returned in triumph to his own chamber, where his wife was
anxiously waiting for him.

"Have you got it, Mr. F.," she asked, eagerly.

"Got it? Why shouldn't I get it?"

"Well, open it, and let us see what it contains."

This Mr. Fox proceeded to do. But no sooner did his glance rest on its
contents than his lower jaw fell, and his eyes opened wide in
perplexity.

"Well, what are you staring at like a fool?" demanded his wife, who
was not so situated that she could see the contents of the pocketbook.

"Look at this, Mrs. F.," said her husband, in a hollow voice. "There's
no money here--only this piece of newspaper."

"Well, well, of all the fools I ever saw you are about the most
stupid!" ejaculated Mrs. Fox. "What you undertake you generally carry
through, do you? After all the fuss you've brought down a pocketbook
stuffed with waste paper."

"I don't understand it," said Fox, his face assuming a look of
perplexity. "Surely the boy told the truth when he said he had fifteen
dollars."