What! that big barred, guarded place, looking like a mighty mouse-trap?
he didn't half like to venture in.

At last he pushed the door ajar, and took a peep; there were muskets over the mantel-piece, ostentatiously ticketed as "Loaded! Beware!" there were leather buckets ranged around the walls: he did not in any degree like it: was he to expose his treasure in this idiot fashion to all the avowed danger of fire and thieves?
However, since he had come so far, he would get some interest for his money, that he would--so he'd just make bold to step to the counter and ask a very obsequious bald-headed gentleman, who sired him quite affably, "How much, Master, will you be pleased to give me for my gold ?" The gentleman looked queerish, as if he did not comprehend the question, and answered, "Oh! certainly, sir--certainly--we do not object to give you our notes for it," at the same time producing an extremely dirty bundle of worn-out bits of paper.
Roger stroked his chin.
"But, Master, my meaning is, not how many o' them brown bits o' paper you'll sell me for my gold here," and he exhibited a greater store than Mr.Breakem had seen at once upon his counter for a year, "but how much more gold you'll send me back with than what I've brought?
by way of interest, you know, or some such law: for I don't know much about the Funds, Master." "Indeed, sir," replied the civil banker, who wished by any means to catch the clodpole's spoil--"you are very obliging; we shall be glad to allow you two-and-a-half per centum per annum for the deposit you are good enough to leave in our keeping." "Leave in your keeping, Master! no, I didn't say that! by your leave, I'll keep it myself!" "In that case, sir, I really do not see how I can do business with you." True enough; and Roger would never have been such a monetary blockhead, had he not been now so generally tipsy; the fumes of beer had mingled with his plan, and all his usual shrewdness had been blunted into folly by greediness of lucre on the one side, and potent liquors on the other.
The moment that the banker's parting speech had reached his ear, the absurdity of Roger's scheme was evident even to himself, and with a bare "Good day, Master," he hurriedly took his bundle from the counter, and scuttled out as quick as he could.
His feelings, walking homeward, were any thing but pleasant; the bubble of his ardent hope was burst: he never could have more than the paltry little sum he carried in that bundle: what a miser he would be of it: how mean it now seemed in his eyes--a mere sample-bag of seed, instead of the wide-waving harvest! Ah, well; he would save and scrape--ay, and go back to toil again--do any thing rather than spend.
Got home, the difficulty now recurred, where was he to hide it?
The store was a greater care than ever, now those rascally bankers knew of it.

He racked his brain to find a hiding-place, and, at length, really hit upon a good one.

He concealed the crock, now replenished with its contents, in the thatch just over his bed's head: it was a rescued darling: so he tore a deep hole, and nested it quite snugly.
Perhaps it did not matter much, but the rain leaked in by that hole all night, and fortunate Roger woke in the morning drenched with wet, and racked by rheumatism..