"Don't you see?" Nellie replied. "The house is burning down."

"And Uncle Billy; is he safe?"

"Yes, he's safe, but almost dead."

"And the box, what about it?"

"What box?"

"The money box; the iron one, where he keeps his papers and gold."

"I know nothing about the box," replied Nellie, while a feeling of great
repugnance welled up within her at the heartlessness of the man. He cared
little for his uncle, the feeble old body, but only for what he possessed.

By this time they had reached the place where the sick man was lying.

"Is he living?" shouted his nephew.

"Yes," replied the parson, "though I doubt if he can last long. We must
get him away to your house as soon as possible."

"But the box, Parson; did you save it?" questioned Tom.

"No, I never thought about it, and, besides, I did not know where it was."

At this Billy opened his faded eyes, and fixed them upon his nephew's
face. He tried to speak, but his voice was thick and his words were
unintelligible.