"Come right upstairs, Mrs. Slack," said Grandma. "I don't have many
applications for men's things, so I guess there's a coat of Mr.
Grant's put away in the camphor chest, and maybe a vest or so; you sit
right down by my fire whilst I go up to the garret and look."

It took Grandma some time to find the clothes under all the shawls and
blankets in the chest, and when she had given them to Mrs. Slack she
had to hurry to the station with her daughter, and the cars being on
the track they did not stop to get tickets, but were barely in time to
find seats when the train rolled off. The conductor came round in a
few minutes and Grandma put her hand in her pocket, suddenly turned
pale, opened her big satchel and turned out all its contents, stood up
and shook her dress, looked on the floor, and when Mrs. White said in
amazement, "What _is_ the matter, mother?" she answered curtly, "I've
lost my pocket-book."

"Was it in your pocket?" asked Maria.

"Yes; at least I s'pose so: I certainly took it out of my drawer, for
I noticed how heavy 'twas; that new cashier gave me gold for most of
it, you see."

"You'd have known then if you dropped it on the way, mother."

"I should think so: any way, I can't go to Boston without it! We may
as well stop at the next station and go back."

So back they went; asked at the ticket office if any such thing had
been picked up on the platform, and leaving a description of it, went
rather forlornly back to the house. Here a terrible upturning of