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One day not long before, in an unguarded moment, Mr. Warren, like an old man in his dotage, informed the Tuckers that he had in his possession, in a silver tobacco-box, some important documents that Jims' own mother left for him before the boy became an orphan.

He had hardly made the admission before he repented it, for they both were highly excited, and said they should like to see the box; and they likewise declared that there must never any thing come to light that "Annie Sue" was not the boy's own mother. "Now mind that," said both John and Polly, "if you ever say anything about it we'll burn your house down and you in it!"

The old man found himself, therefore, in a bad position, and this it was that troubled him. He still retained the box and its contents, and the secret. He longed to surrender them all to a proper person but rather hesitated to make them over to George and Eliza, or to say any thing about the legitimacy of the boy on account of the threatening of the reputed grandparents. He kept the box in his upper bureau drawer, near the foot of his bed, and it was carefully kept among some relics of small value that were once the property of his wife.

"What time, Miss Herring, does the old gentleman get his nap now-a-days?" inquired Polly one morning, as she happened in and lounged down in a kitchen chair by the fire.

"Oh, well, he gets his best nap between eleven and twelve. To be sure he sleeps in the afternoon, but not so regularly, you know; he always lies down, you know, at eleven, and he enjoys it, you know, mightily -- and it rests him, too, more than any nap he has in the whole twenty-four I do verily believe."

"Possible!" exclaimed Polly.

"Yes; he says so himself, and that he couldn't get through the day without it. Old men, you know, are feeble bodied, and they seem to needs more sleep than most folks -- don't you think they do, Polly?"

Polly said "Yes," but she evidently was thinking of something else. "I told John," said she, "I'd come over and help you this forenoon about your chores; you look so pale and sickly these days I feel almost concerned for you -- so," said she, laying off her old hood, "you may put me to doing your work, if you will."

"Well, Polly, I don't feel very smart now-a-days, and it's clever in you to make the offer. It's considerable to make the fires in the old gentleman's room, and then run up stairs and down stairs so many times, you know, as one must, and by night I do get terribly tired out and lame."

"Now just let me, Miss Herring, do a deal for you to-day. I'll even make the old gentleman's fires for him when he's asleep, and brush up the things, and you shall git a little rest."

A guarded, stealthy step! It is half-past eleven. The fire is made afresh in the old gentleman's room while he sleeps -- a step as if taken by a cat towards the bureau in the room -- the old man sleeps, and breathes gently; but any noise will arouse him. Another step, and a form crouches down to the very floor at the foot of the bed. A hand is laid on the knob of the lower drawer. With the least possible noise it is opened and searched, and half-breathlessly are those above it searched -- even the upper drawer is now opened. With eyes distended and glaring the search goes on, and with hands that tremble, the lid of a small trunk in the drawer is raised. An exulting chuckle, scarcely as loud as a whisper, breaks open the lips of the guilty one, and a savage smile passes over her features as she plucks the silver box from its long safe depository, and conveys it to her bosom! More agitated than before, she closes up the bureau drawer, and the little noise so nearly awakens the sleeper that she crouches to the floor at the foot of the bed and scarcely breathes. Full five minutes she hugs the floor, till the long breathings of the old man reassure her, and she creeps up towards the door to escape. It opens with slight creaking, and she steps through into the kitchen, closing it carefully after her. And the old man sleeps on -- and rests him well in undisturbed repose!

"Now, Miss Liza," said Polly, "I must run up home to see old John afore he gets off, and when you want me to help you I'll come again."

"I shall be very glad of your help when you are about here and feel like it," said Eliza. "You know it is a great care that of old Mr. Warren, and you have helped me so much; dear me, I feel like another creature. I thank you, Polly!" cried she, as the latter was making long and hasty strides towards her own cabin.

"Never mind it," exclaimed Polly, with her face towards home.

Exulting over her theft, she held up the purloined object to the astonished gaze of John, too drunken to fully realize all the importance of her adventure, but not totally lost to its meaning.

"Well done, Polly by the Lord Harry!" said he -- "now that young brat may whistle for his mother -- wonder if he'll find her? Ha! ha!"

"I told you I'd have it, live or die!" shouted she. -- "I'd had it if 'twas necessary by cutting the throat of old Warren. Where's the whisky, John?"