the dark, you know.”
Dropping her head on his broad shoulder, she related, in disjointed sentences, the history of the morning.
“I guessed as much,” he commented, as she finished. “I overheard their conversation on the bus.”
“Can’t they take it, if they don’t mind not having—having—”
“A clear title? I don’t know, dear; I’ll see what I can find out from the judge tomorrow. I should say, though, that we must not expect to keep it. We talked of that possibility; don’t you remember?”
“Yes; but—such a thing seemed so—so very improbable,” faltered Desiré. “The place had been deserted for so long.”
“If we have to give it up we can probably find something in town. There’s an old place near Judge Herbine’s, and another one on the road to the Basin. Don’t take it so to heart, Dissy; we’ll find a place somewhere, even if we have to leave this; and we may not. It’s not like you to look on the dark side of things.”
Cheered by Jack’s words and manner, Desiré began to feel that she had been foolish to let herself become so disturbed, and she made a heroic effort to resume her natural manner. She succeeded so well that by bedtime they were laughing over the discovery of Rover’s latest escapade, a hole dug beside the step on which they were sitting. Jack set his foot in it as they rose to go in, thereby nearly upsetting himself and Desiré as well.
“Oh, by the way, Dissy,” remarked Jack after they had gone into the house, “I almost forgot to tell you something. You’ll never guess whom I saw today.”
“Then tell me right away.”
“My old enemy.”
“Oh, Jack!” cried Desiré fearfully. “Where?”
“On the bus. He was on his way to work in the orchards around Annapolis. He was rather friendly, for him, and just as he was leaving the bus, he thrust these into my hand and told me to give them to you.”
Desiré peered curiously at the round, brown things which her brother pulled out of his pocket.
“What are they?”
“Some kind of bulbs. You’d better plant them tomorrow.”
“What’s the use if we’re going to lose the place?” she queried, rather bitterly.
Jack looked at her reprovingly. “That doesn’t sound a bit like my cheerful partner.”
“You’re right, Jack. I’m sorry. I’ll plant them tomorrow, and if we don’t see them bloom, perhaps they will give pleasure to someone else.”
The next morning she selected a lightly shaded spot where the soil looked rich and promising, and began to dig. Before long, her spade struck a large stone.
“Wonder if I can get that out?” she thought. “This is the best place in the yard for unknown plants; for they’ll get a mixture of sun and shade.”
Vigorously she attacked the stone, and after much exertion succeeded in getting it out. Rolling it carelessly to one side, she was busily trying to smooth out the ragged, uneven earth with the spade, when there was a sound of metal striking on metal.
“Jack,” she called to her brother, who was in the house reenforcing a shelf.
“What’s wanted?” he responded, sticking his head out of the window.
“Come here, quick!”
Throwing his long legs over the sill, he dropped onto the ground and was at her side in a moment. “What’s the matter,” he asked; “snake?”
“Something’s down there,” pointing to the hole.
Jack seized the spade and quickly uncovered an iron box. Desiré was trembling violently, and could only gaze silently at the strange object.
“What have you got?” demanded René, appearing at that moment from the front yard. “Prissy!” he shrieked, without waiting for an answer, “come ’n’ see!”
Priscilla appeared, viewed the find calmly, and proposed taking it into the house to see what it contained.
“Do you think we had better take it over to the judge’s?” asked Desiré, finally finding her voice. “Perhaps we should not open it by ourselves.”
“I’ll go right after him,” declared Jack. “Just put some papers on the table so I can carry the box in and set it down before I go.”
CHAPTER XXIX
W-1755—15x12—6754
It seemed a long time before they heard the sound of the Ford, but it was in reality only about half an hour; for Jack had covered the ground at his best speed, and the judge lost no time in getting back with him.
“Well,” said Judge Herbine, darting into the room and up to the table, “lots of excitement. Got anything to open it with, Jack? It’s locked.”
With considerable difficulty they managed to force the lock, and pry up the cover. Then everyone crowded around to peer inside. The box was filled with gold and silver pieces.
“Money!” gasped Jack.
“Oh,” cried Desiré, “it must have been out there ever since the Expulsion. I read in my little blue history that some of the Acadians buried their savings in their gardens before they left the country, because they expected to come back again very soon.”
“Then it probably belonged to our ancestors,” said Jack slowly.
“Let’s tip it out,” proposed the judge. “It looks to me like a goodly sum.”
Tarnished and dull, it lay in a heap on the table; and as the judge turned the box right side up again, he caught sight of some papers in the bottom.
“Documents of some kind!” he exclaimed, loosening them carefully.
Stiff, yellow with age, the writing was dim but discernible.
“That’s a will, isn’t it?” asked Jack, catching sight of a few words at the top of the sheet, as the man unfolded it slowly.
“Exactly. ‘To my daughter, Desiré Godet and her heirs forever—’” he read. “6754-1755.”
“What?” gasped Desiré, crowding closer to look at the paper.
“This house and money; and here’s the missing deed with the will. I congratulate you—most heartily, children. This is evidently—a perfectly legal will—and the long lost deed; and since you are Godet survivors—the place and the money must belong to you.”
“Oh, Jack!” cried Desiré, throwing herself into his arms, “now you can go back to college, and nobody can ever take this house away from us. It is really our home, now, just as I always felt it was.” Desiré was sobbing in her delirium of joy.
“’N’
