Deep in the heart of the September woods there was gathered one morning a little company of greatly excited people. Old Cap’n Jack was the wildest of the lot. Next him in point of eagerness was the Colonel. Corny Stillwell was there; so was his brother Wicky, who had come across country to see how now fared Lucetta, the “shiftless” wife of his “energetic” brother. Of late these terms had been exchanged in the minds of the Wickliffe Stillwells, owing to various statements made them by their new friends, the “Water Lilies.” Being honest and warm-hearted they hadn’t hesitated to express their change of opinion; and it was a fact that though Lucetta Stillwell had never been so ill in her life she had never been so comfortable.

Lizzie, her sister-in-law, never allowed herself the extravagance of keeping “help;” but it was she who had hunted up a good old “Mammy” and established her in the lean-to of the little cabin. She had bidden this good cook:

“See to it that Lucetty has nourishments continual, and do for mercy’s sake, feed them skinny childern till they get flesh on their bones! They’re a real disgrace to the neighborhood, the pinched way they look, and I shan’t set easy in meetin’ if I can’t think they’re fatted up right. You do the feedin’ and we-all’ll find you the stuff.”

So on this special morning Lizzie had despatched her husband with a small wagonload of vegetables and poultry; and having left his load at the cabin, the sociable man had driven on to the Copse, to meet and inquire for the “Lilies.” Arrived at the boat, Aunt Betty had eagerly greeted him, explaining:

“You’re a man of sense and mighty welcome just now. Our people have gone actually daft over a dirty piece of paper and a few French words scribbled on it. The precious document belongs to the Colonel – Oh! yes, he’s here. He has been sometime. I think he means to tarry developments – that will never be. He’s infected all my family with his crazy notions and they’re off now on this wild-goose search for ‘buried treasure.’ I wish you’d go and warn them that they mustn’t trespass on private property, for I believe they’ll stop at nothing in their folly.”

“I’ve heered about that there ‘treasure.’ I ’low more time’s been spent by fools lookin’ for it ’an would ha’, arn’t ’em a livin’. Sure. Yes ma’am, they has so. How many’s at it now, Mrs. Calvert?”

She laughingly counted upon her fingers:

“The Colonel; the Captain; old Ephraim; James, Melvin, Gerald. Nor could Mabel, Aurora, Dorothy – Oh! by no means least, Dorothy! – resist the temptation to follow. And if I’m not greatly mistaken, I saw Chloe sneaking through the underbush a little while ago, with Metty in hand. I’ve heard nothing but ‘buried treasure’ ever since Gerald blundered upon a fancied trail, coming home from his second stay at your brother’s. Elsa, here, hasn’t caught the fever. She’s the only one among us, I believe hasn’t caught the money fever, for I confess even I am curious to hear the outcome – absurd as I know it to be. Mrs. Bruce says nothing. She’s a wise woman who knows enough to set a check upon her lips – which you’ll see I don’t. So, if you’ll be kind enough to ‘light,’ as they say here, and try to keep my people out of mischief, I’ll consider it another proof of your friendship.”

Farmer Wicky was flattered by the confidence which she had always reposed in him, and sided with her entirely.

“If I had any rights to any hid treasures, which I haven’t; and I expected to find it, which I don’t; I wouldn’t be the feller to go publish it broadcast this way. I’d keep it to myself an’ do my own diggin’; onless, course, I’d tell Lizzie. Why, Ma’am, Mrs. Calvert, I ’low ’t the hull state o’ Maryland’s been dug over, ten foot deep, from Pennsylvania to old Virginny, with the hull Eastern Sho’ flung in, a-lookin’ for what hain’t never been put there – ’ceptin’ them same shovels. Maybe that’s what makes our sile so rich an’ gives us our wonderful crops! Ha, ha, ha!”

Aunt Betty was “ha, ha, ha-ing,” too, inwardly; for despite himself, a great eagerness had lighted the farmer’s face at mention of this last digging-excursion. As soon as he could do so he rose and hastily struck off into the woods.

She made her mirth audible as the branches closed behind him, exclaiming to Mrs. Bruce:

“There’s another one! I’m afraid I’m responsible for this last crack-brain; and – and – the disease is catching. I declare I’d like to pin up my skirts and travel the road the rest have taken! But I’ll read a little in Don Quixote, instead. I wonder when they’ll be back!”

Meanwhile, the trail was growing “hot” in the depth of that old forest, or grove. It was, indeed, part of a great private park known as “Cecilia’s Manor,” and it was the pride of its owners to keep it intact as it had come down to them.

Captain Jack held the floor, so to speak, with the less talkative but more deeply interested – if not excited – Colonel, occasionally interrupting and correcting.

“Yes, siree! We’ve struck the gulf-stream ’at leads di-rect and straight, to the spot! Woods, says you? Here they be. Stream o’ water? There she flows! Ford an’ deers feedin’? Course, they’s the very identical! Tracks an’ all – ”

“Them’s cow tracks,” corrected farmer Wicky, while Corny laughed and nudged his brother to let the farce proceed.

“Well, now, mate, how d’ye know them’s cows’ tracks? You don’t see cows around, do ye? No, I don’t see cows, nuther; so, ’cordin’ to ship’s law what you don’t know you can’t prove. Ahem. Path? If this here we’ve come ain’t a crooked-zig-zag I never stumped one. Here’s a tree, been struck by lightin’, ’pears like; a-holdin’ out its arms to keep the hangin’ vines on ’em, exactly like a cross. Or nigh exactly.”

“Hold on, Cap’n Jack! In the map the zig-zag line stops at the tree. This one goes ever so much beyond.”

The Captain glared round upon the audacious Cornwallis, who dared gibe at his assertions. Then standing as upright as he could, he shouted:

“Now face that way – North, ain’t it? Right about – South! Yonder’s East, an’ t’other side’s West. I allows I knows the p’ints of the compass if I don’t know nothin’ else. I tell you, this is the spot. Right below our feet lies – lies – ”

“The treasures of Golconda!” suggested the irreverent Corny. In the past he had held faith in this same “buried treasure,” but now to see so many other people so earnestly interested in it, changed the whole aspect for him.

But the doughty Captain, self-constituted master of ceremonies disdained to notice the “Ne’er-do-well” of the countryside and in stentorian tones, with his hands trumpet-wise before his mouth, he bellowed:

“Now, my hearties, dig! DIG!”

Each was armed with something to use, Jim had brought some of the engineering tools from the “Pad” and had distributed these among the boys. Ephraim had borrowed an old hoe from a farmer near by, Wicky had caught up a pick-axe from his own wagon – he had meant to leave it at his brother’s cabin but forgot; Chloe had seized a carving knife, and the others had spoons, table knives, or whatever came handiest. Only the Colonel and the Captain were without implements of some sort. Even the jesting Corny had seized the fallen branch of a tree and broken its end into the semblance of a tool. It was he who first observed the idleness of the two men most interested, and slapping Cap’n Jack upon the shoulder, ordered:

“Dig, my hearty! DIG!”

“I – I’m a – a cripple!” answered the sailor, with offended dignity; “and don’t you know, you Simple Simon, ’t they always has to be a head to everything? Well, I ’low as how I’m the head to this here v’yage, an’ I’ll spend my energy officerin’ this trip!”

Corny laughed. Now that all was well at his home in the fields he found the world the jolliest sort of place, and the “Lilies” the most interesting people in it. Then he turned upon the Colonel, sitting upon a soft hummock of weeds as near in shape to Billy’s restful back as possible.

“But, Cunnel, how ’bout you? I thought the ‘treasure’ was yours – in part, anyway. Why aren’t you up and at it? ‘Findings are keepings’, you know. Up, man, and dig!”

The Colonel lifted sorrowful eyes to the jester’s face, and murmured in his tired voice:

“I cayn’t. I never could. I shouldn’t find it if I did. They ain’t no use. I couldn’t. They won’t. Nobody will. Not nigh her; not on My Lady Cecilia’s Manor. I’ve known that all along. But I had to come. Something made me, I don’t know what. But I had to. Corny Stillwell, do you know what day this is? Or ain’t you no memory left in that rattle-pate o’ you-all’s? I don’t suppose they is. Nobody remembers nothin’. Ah! hum.”

Corny’s face had sobered and he held out his hand in sympathy.

“Shake, old fellow! and look-a-here, haven’t you held on to your grudge long enough? The Doc’s a fine man if he is a mite greedy for the almighty dollar. Land of love! Aren’t we all? Else why are we acting like such a parcel of idiots this minute! Get up, Cunnel. Get some energy into your tired old body and see how ’twill feel. At present, you’re about as inspiriting as a galvanized squash, and first you know your willing helpers’ll quit. Come on. Let’s strike off a bit deeper into the woods. Too many banging around the roots of that one old tree. First they know it’ll be tumblin’ over on ’em. Come on out of harm’s way. You and I’ve been good friends ever since I used to go to the Manor House and flirt with – ”

“Hold on! Don’t you dare to say that name to me, Corny, you fool! you ain’t wuth your salt but I’d ruther it had been you than him. You clear out my sight. I ain’t got no thoughts, I ain’t got no memories – I – I – ain’t got no little girl no more!”

The man’s emotion was real. Tears rose to his faded eyes and rolled down over his gaunt cheeks; leaving, it must be admitted, some clean streaks there. Big-hearted, idle Corny couldn’t endure this sight and was now doubly glad he had wandered to this place that day. The Colonel was a gentleman, sadly discouraged and, in reality, almost heart-broken. His merry friend could remember him as something very different from now; when his attire was less careless, his face clean-shaven, the melancholy droop of his countenance less pronounced. He had always talked much as he did still but he had been, despite this fact, a proud and happy man. These strangers mustn’t see the old planter weeping!

“Come.”

The touch of the jester’s hand was as gentle as Lucetta’s own, as he now adroitly guided his old friend to a sheltered spot where none could see his face. Except – Well, Dorothy was quite near; harmlessly prodding away at the earth with Aunt Betty’s best paperknife. Her digging was aimless, for her thoughts were no longer on her present task. They were so absorbed that she didn’t hear the approach of the two men – nor of one other, yet unseen. Suddenly, the little steel blade of her implement struck with a ringing sound upon something metallic, and she paused in astonishment. Then bent to her work excitedly, wondering:

“Is it – can it be I’ve – found – it – IT! Oh! – ”

An unfamiliar voice suddenly interrupted her task, demanding:

“Girl! Why are you despoiling my property, trampling my choicest ferns, trespassing upon my private park?”

The paperknife went one way, Dorothy’s red Tam another, as she sprang up to confront the most masterful looking woman she had ever seen. Tall as an Amazon, yet handsome as she was forbidding, she towered above the astonished child as if she would annihilate her.

“I – I couldn’t do very much – with a paperknife, could I? I didn’t know – I’m sorry, I’ll plant them right back – I only did what the others said – Nobody warned me – us – ”

“Us? Are there others then? Where? This is outrageous! Can’t you read? Didn’t you see the signs ‘No Trespassing’ everywhere? Where are the rest? This must be put a stop to – I wouldn’t have had it happen for anything. My park – Eunice’s precious playground, where she is safe and – Oh! I am so sorry, so sorry.”

The lady was in riding habit. A little way off stood a horse and beside it a tiny pony with a child upon its back. A groom was at the pony’s side, apparently holding its small rider safe. The child’s face peered out from a mass of waving hair, frail and very lovely, though now frightened by her own mother’s loud tones.

These tones had roused others also. Wheeling about the lady faced Corny and the Colonel, slowly rising from the log where they had been resting. A moment she stared as if doubting the evidence of her own eyes, then her whole expression changed and springing forward she threw her strong arms about the trembling Colonel and drew his tired face to her shoulder.

“Oh! Daddy, Daddy! You have come home – you have come home at last. And on my wedding day! To make it a glorious day, indeed! Ten years since I have had a chance to kiss your dear old face, ten years lost out of a lifetime just because I married —Jabb!”

But now her strong, yet cultured voice, rang out in mirth, and Dorothy looked at her in amazement, almost believing she had found a crazy woman in these woods. Then Mr. Corny, as she called him, came to where she stood, observing, and gently pushed her back again upon the heap of ferns.

“Best not to notice. Best keep right on diggin’. That’s Josie – I mean Josephine – Dillingham – Jabb! Her father intended her to marry into one of our oldest Maryland ‘families’ and she rebelled. Took up with Jabb, a son of the poorest white trash in the county, not a cent to his name – that’s bad enough! – but more brains ’an all the ‘first families’ put together ever had. Made his way right straight up the ladder. Has a reputation greater outside Annyrunnell than in it. Only fault – likes money. Says he’ll make a fortune yet will beat the ‘aristocrats’ into being proud of him. Says if he does have to leave his daughter the humble name of Jabb he’ll pile money enough on top of it to make the world forget what’s underneath. Says when she marries she shall never discard that name but always be ‘of J’. Poor little child! Her parents adore her but all her father’s skill and pride is powerless to straighten her poor little body. She’s a hunchback, and though she doesn’t mind that for herself she grieves over it for them. Oh! but this is a grand day! The Colonel will just idolize little Eunice – I want to fling up my hat and hurra!”

All this information had been given in a whisper while Dorothy snuggled in the great fronds, and Mr. Stillwell crouched beside her, idly digging with the paperknife he had picked up, and trying to keep his presence hidden from these two chief actors in this unexpected scene.

“Do you suppose it was really to find the ‘buried treasure’ the Colonel came? Or to – to make up friends with his daughter?” asked Dolly, softly.

“Well – both, maybe. No matter why nor how – he’s here. They’ve met, and at heart are just as loving as they always were. It is a good day, the best anniversary Josie Dillingham ever had. Hark! What’s doing? Peep and see.”

“The lady has motioned that groom to lead the horses this way. Ah! isn’t that sweet? The little thing is holding out her arms to the Colonel as if she knew him and loved him already!”

“Reckon Josie’s taught her that. Joe always was a brick! Liked to rule the roost but with a heart as big as her body. She told my Lucetty ’t she should teach little Eunice to know she had a grandpa somewhere and that he was the very best, dearest man alive; so that when they met, if they ever did, she wouldn’t be afraid but would take to him right away. Reckon her plan’s succeeded. Won’t Lucetty be glad about this!”

The groom was now leading the two horses through the woods, toward the Copse and the Water Lily. Both saddles were empty for little Eunice was in her grandfather’s arms and he stepping as proudly, almost as firmly, as the woman walking beside him.

“They – why – why – what have you done? Broken Aunt Betty’s paperknife of real Damascus steel! She says she knows it’s that because she bought it there herself, once when she went on a ‘round the world’ tour. She says it mayn’t be any better than other steel – reckon it isn’t, or it wouldn’t have broken that way. I ought not to have taken it but I was so excited, everybody was, I didn’t stop to think. What makes you look so queer, Mr. Corny? Aunt Betty won’t care, or she’ll blame me only. You – you most scare me!”

Indeed, her companion was looking very “queer,” as she said. His eyes were glittering, his face was pale, his lips nervously working, and he was rapidly enlarging the hole her knife had made by using his bare hands.

Dorothy sprang to a little distance and then watched, fascinated. A suspicion of the truth set her own eyes shining and now she was scarcely surprised when the man stood up, holding a muddy box in his hand, and shouting in hilarious delight:

“Found! Found! After all, that old yarn was true! It’s the ‘buried treasure’, as sure as I’m alive! Hurra!”

Away he sped carrying the big box above his head and summoning all his fellow searchers to join him at the house-boat and behold.

Half-dazed by this success Dorothy picked up the discarded fragments of the paper cutter, and followed him. But even as she did so she wondered:

“Odd! That he can carry it so, on the very tips of his fingers, and so high up! I thought ‘buried treasure’ was always gold, and a box full of gold would be terrible heavy. Even two, three hundred dollars that Mr. Ford let me lift, out in California, weighed a lot!”

But she shared to the full the excitement of all the company who now threw down their own tools to follow Corny with his joyous shouts:

“Come on! Come on, all! The ‘treasure’ is found!”

CHAPTER XVI.
WHEN THE MONKEYS’ CAGE WAS CLEANED

It was an eager company gathered in the big saloon of the Water Lily. No time had been lost by all these seekers after the “buried treasure” in obeying Farmer Corny’s summons to follow him; and having arrived at the boat, found the Colonel, his daughter, and grandchild already there.

The Colonel’s proud introduction of his newly restored family found a warm welcome at Aunt Betty’s hands, and she and the younger matron, members both of “first families,” were friends at once. As for little Eunice, who had always shrunk from the presence of strangers, there was no shrinking now. Her grandfather had set her down upon the floor, while he presented Mrs. Jabb – even deigning to call her by that name – and the little one had looked about her in great curiosity.

Then she perceived Elsa, holding out entreating hands, and promptly ran to throw herself into the welcoming arms. Instantly there was sympathy between these two afflicted young things and, as a new sound fell upon the little one’s ear, the elder girl explained:

“The monkeys! Would you like to see the monkeys? Or would you be afraid?”

“Eunice never saw monkeys. What are monkeys? Are they people or just dear, dear animals?”

“They’re not people, darling, though oddly like them. Come and see.” Elsa was herself so shy in the presence of strangers, especially so majestic a person as the mistress of Lady Cecilia’s Manor, that she was glad to escape to the tender where her charges were in their cage; and for once the little animals were docile while on exhibition, so that Eunice’s delight was perfect. Indeed, she was so fascinated by them that she could scarcely be induced to leave them, and when she was compelled to do so by her mother’s voice, she walked backward, keeping her eyes fixed upon those delectable creatures till the last instant.

Meanwhile those in the cabin of the Lily were merrily disputing over who should open the “find,” and finally drew lots upon it. Careful Mrs. Bruce had brought a tray to put under the muddy box and brushed the dirt from it, till she was prevented by the hubbub of voices, in which that of the newcomer, Mrs. Jabb, was uppermost. She was exclaiming:

“The lot is Corny’s! Oh! I’m glad of that, and I say right here and now that if I have any share in the ‘treasure’ I pass it onto him ‘unsight, unseen,’ as we used to say when, boy and girl together, we exchanged our small belongings.”

“Pooh! Joe, I don’t half like it! But – shall I, folks? Looks as if the box would come to pieces at a breath.”

“Yes, yes, you – you do it! And we ratify what Mrs. Jabb has said. Anyone of us who has a right to any of the contents of the ‘treasure’ he has found will pass it on to Mr. Cornwallis Stillwell,” said Aunt Betty. “Dolly, hand him this little silver ice-hammer, to strike the chest with.”

Laughingly, he received it and struck:

“The fatal blow! Be kind, oh! fate! to a frightened meddler in this mystery!”

The wooden box did fall apart, almost at that first stroke of the tiny hammer. It was extremely old and much decayed by its long burial in the ground, and had been held together only by the metallic bands which Dorothy’s paperknife struck when she was digging among the ferns.

But there was a box within a box! The second one of brass and fastened by a hasp. A feeling of intense awe fell on all the company. This did look as if there had certainly been buried something of great value, and the impression was deepened when Corny lifted the inner receptacle with reverence, remarking:

“It’s very light – not very large – it might contain precious stones – diamonds, do you think? I declare, I’d rather somebody else would do it. You, Colonel, please.”

“No, no. Ah! hum. I’ve something far more precious ’an any diamond in my arms this minute. I don’t give that up for any old box!” and so declining he rubbed his face against Eunice’s soft cheek and laughed when she protested against its roughness.

Every head was bent to see and all were urging haste, so that no further time was wasted. Undoing the fastening and lifting the lid of this inner “shrine” there lay revealed – What?

Nobody comprehended just what until the man held up the half-bright, half-tarnished metal image of a “Fool’s Head,” as pictured in old prints.

Then the laughter burst forth at this ancient jest coming home so aptly to the modern jester who had unearthed it.

“Maybe there’s something inside! Maybe that’s only an odd-shaped box to deceive folks. Maybe – do, do, look inside!”

“Do that yourself, Miss Dolly. Remember it was you who first found the ‘treasure!’” returned Mr. Stillwell and merrily passed it on to her.

She didn’t hesitate. In a twinkling her fingers had discovered where a lid was fitted on and had lifted it. There was something in the box after all! A closely folded bit of paper – No, parchment – on which was writing. This wasn’t in French as the map had been inscribed, but in quaintly formed, old-fashioned characters, and the legend was this:

“Who hides his money in the earth
Is but a fool, whate’er his birth;
And he who tries to dig it thence
Expecting pounds, should find but pence.
The hider is but half a wit,
The seeker’s brains are smaller yet,
For who to chance his labor sells
Is only fit for cap and bells.”

“Take my share of this wonderful ‘treasure’,” cried Mrs. Jabb, when the momentary silence following the reading of this rhyme had been broken by Corny’s laughter.

“And mine!” “And mine!” “And mine, for my great-great-grandfather’s sister was – How was that, dear Colonel? About our great-great-grandmother’s – father’s – relationship? Well, I know one thing, I’ll never believe in any such foolishness again! I never did really, you know, I only – ”

“Oh! nonsense, Dolly! A girl who is so interested she catches up a paperknife – ” reproved Aurora, who had herself ruined a table knife.

“Aunt Betty, that’s true! I did break it – I mean – ”

“I did that, Madam, and I fear I can never travel to Damascus to fetch you another; but what I can do I will do. Vote of the company! Attention, please! Does not this quaint old ‘cap and bells’ belong of right to Mrs. Calvert?” demanded and explained Cornwallis Stillwell holding the little metal head in the air.

“No, no, to you! to you!”

To Dorothy, the most amusing feature of the whole affair was the earnestness with which each and every one of them denied that they had ever had any faith in the old tradition.

“I only went along to – for fun!” stoutly declared Gerald; and so calmly stated all the rest. Even the old Captain rubbed his bald spot till it shone, while tears of laughter sparkled behind his “specs;” and some were there, looking upon this “nigh useless old hull,” as he called himself, who felt that the expedition had not failed since he could find so much enjoyment from it.

As for Mrs. Josephine, her face was transformed with the happiness of that morning’s reunion with her father and it needed but one thing to make her joy perfect.

“Oh! Daddy, if only the Doctor were here! But it’s only a little delay, for of course, you’re going home with me to the Manor House now, to stay forever and a day. Say, Daddy dear? How’s farming? And oh! where, how is Billy?”

The Colonel was actually smiling. Nay, more, was laughing! for as if he had heard himself inquired for, old Billy answered in his loudest bray – “Ah! umph! A-a-a-ao-o-m-p-h!”

Then into that merry company came running again little Eunice, who had for a moment slipped away with Elsa. In her little hand she held Joan’s chain, while with a saucy glance around Jocko sat grinning upon Elsa’s shoulder.

“I beg pardon, but she will not leave them, lady. I never saw anybody so pleased with monkeys as she is, and not one mite afraid. That’s more than some of us can say:” sweetly apologized Elsa, with a mischievous glance toward Aurora who had gathered up her skirts and mounted a chair.

“Mamma! I want the monkeys! The lovely monkeys! I do, I do! Don’t you know? Don’t you ’member? Always you told me I should have anything I wanted that day when Grandpa comes, anything – any single thing. You wouldn’t like to tell a wrong story, would you, Mamma dear? Because he’s comed – this is the day – and what Eunice wants is the lovely, lovely monkeys! Buy ’em for me, Mamma darling! Grandpa, make her!” pleaded the child, for once wholly forgetful that she was displaying her deformity to all these people, and running from her mother back to the Colonel.

With a return of his usual sadness, he lifted her and kissed her, then set her gently down, saying:

“Honey, I cayn’t. I never could. Ah! hum, she was a deal younger ’n you when she took the reins into her hands an’ begun drivin’ for herself. I cayn’t help ye, sweetheart, but I’d give – give – even Billy if she’d do what you want.”

“Oh! Colonel, you can’t give again what you’ve already given! Billy – ”

“No, Miss Dorothy, there you’re mistook! Billy wouldn’t be give, he wasn’t accepted, he – Honey sweetness, Grandpa cayn’t!”

“Are those monkeys for sale?” asked Mrs. Jabb.

Aurora looked at Gerald and Gerald nudged Melvin. Here was a solution to their own dilemma – “what shall we do with the monks?” So being thus urged, as he supposed, by his partner in trade, Melvin promptly answered:

“No, Mrs. Jabb, they aren’t for sale. But if this little girl would like to have them we are delighted to make her a present of them, don’t you know? Just —delighted.”

The lady was going to say she couldn’t accept so valuable a gift and would prefer to buy them, but just then a groan he couldn’t subdue escaped the disappointed Gerald and she felt that he was selfish and should be punished. Of course, anybody rich enough to idle away a whole autumn, house-boating, could afford to give a half-share in a pair of monkeys to a crippled child. But in her judgment she did poor Gerry an injustice. His groan would have been a cry of rejoicing that his deal in monkeys was to be taken off his hands had not Jim, at that instant, given him a kick under the table with a too forcible sympathy.

“Very well. But how does a person transport monkeys?” asked the doctor’s wife, while Eunice danced about the cabin in great glee.

“Oh! they have a cage. A real nice cage, but I’d like to give it a good cleaning before it’s taken away,” said Elsa.

“Would that take long? I’d like to send for it as soon as we get home. Eunice so seldom cares about any new toy I’m anxious to please her while the idea is new.”

“Not long, I’ll be real quick. Would you like to come and see it done, Eunice?”

“Oh! yes, I want, I want!”

Then it suddenly developed that all the young folks “wanted,” even Aurora. Now that they were to part company with the simians the curious creatures became at once more interesting than ever before. So they gathered about the wooden cage, some helping, some suggesting, and Dorothy seconding Elsa in the statement:

“If they’re to belong to this lovely child not a speck of dirt must be left. I’ve not taken out that sliding bottom of the cage but once, it fits too tight, and you’d have laughed to see how the dear pets watched me. Ugh! It does stick – dreadfully!” said Elsa, wrestling with the wooden slide.

“Here, girlie! Let me! You just keep the wretched beasts out of reach of me. I ought to help in this and you’ll hurt your hands. Let me, Elsa!”

As Gerald spoke he gave a strong pull on the false bottom and it yielded with a suddenness that sent him sprawling. But it wasn’t his mishap that caused that surprised cry from Elsa, nor the angry, answering one of the now excited monkeys. It was all she could do to prevent their springing upon Gerald who had so interfered with their belongings. For between the false and real bottoms of their cage was a considerable space; and in some ingenious fashion they had stored there all their cherished possessions – as well as those of their human neighbors. Missing thimbles, a plume from Chloe’s hat, Metty’s pen knife, thread, nails, buttons – anything and everything that had been missed and had captivated their apish fancy.

Elsa and Dorothy made a thorough search, compelling by their ridicule the “timid boys” to keep the animals off while they did so; and it was then that one more “mystery” was solved, one more miserable anxiety and suspicion laid to rest.

“Our money! Our money! It was they who ‘stole’ it, and gave us all our trouble! Oh! Mrs. Bruce, this is the most wonderful day ever was! I’m so excited I can hardly breathe – the money’s found – the money’s found!”