giving Taddy a final charge to beware of setting anything afire.

He had driven about half a mile, when he met a peddler. There was
nothing unusual or alarming in such a circumstance, surely; but, as
Ducklow kept on, it troubled him.

"He'll stop to the house, now, most likely, and want to trade. Findin'
nobody but Taddy, there's no knowin' what he'll be tempted to do. But I
ain't a-goin' to worry. I'll defy anybody to find them bonds. Besides,
she may be home by this time. I guess she'll hear of the fire-alarm and
hurry home: it'll be jest like her. She'll be there, and trade with the
peddler!" thought Ducklow, uneasily. Then a frightful fancy possessed
him. "She has threatened two or three times to sell that old trunkful of
papers. He'll offer a big price for 'em, and ten to one she'll let him
have 'em. Why _didn't_ I think on't? What a stupid blunderbuss I be!"

As Ducklow thought of it, he felt almost certain that Mrs. Ducklow had
returned home, and that she was bargaining with the peddler at that
moment. He fancied her smilingly receiving bright tin-ware for the old
papers; and he could see the tape-tied envelope going into the bag with
the rest. The result was that he turned about and whipped his old mare
home again in terrific haste, to catch the departing peddler.

Arriving, he found the house as he had left it, and Taddy occupied in
making a kite-frame.

"Did that peddler stop here?"

"I hain't seen no peddler."