I go back twice to the Lumber Yard Company in my hometown to get 2 paper pads, and $4.80 in money which had been left there for safe keeping. The ground is dry and thick with dust; the dust is 2 or 3 inches deep directly in front of the office door and I unavoidably track some in. On my first onset, the only person in the office or yard is a small, rather old, more of less wizened man, who apparently is unable to do anything for me. On my second visit, this man calls to Mr. Myers in the yard, and the latter walks toward the office, but instead of entering by the door I used, he pulls some keys from his pocket, unlocks a small door leading into the office proper, and enters that way. Mr. Myers asks the man who it is and the latter says someone has come for a package and Mr. Myers then unlocks the door of a sort of cabinet and pulls out several shallow drawers. He finds my pads, one of which has "$4.80" written on first page. I ask him if Harold and Horace are in town, and he says, "Yes, they are," in a perfectly calm tone. This surprises me, as I feel sure he has taken my money, and I expect him to show some sign of guilt. He goes on to explain about a check which was no good because drawn on an insolvent bank. I am having considerable difficulty in hearing, and curve my hand around one ear. Myers is smooth shaven and younger looking than when I knew him. He takes a drink from a water fountain. In spite of my suspicion that he has taken my money, I am very apologetic about the possible trouble or worry he has been to in caring for my property. He then says something to the effect that feeling as I do, I won't mind the loss of the money. I try to look at matter philosophically, thinking I had intended some of the money for Harold and Horace in the first place.