  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’ is all that money ours?” demanded RenÉ, staring at it with wide eyes. “Guess it is, my boy,” replied the judge, adding to Jack, “And some of these are doubtless rare pieces—worth much more than their intrinsic value.” “Then we can have an automobile,” pronounced RenÉ. Everybody laughed, and the tension was somewhat relieved. “Look, Jack,” said DesirÉ, “there are two of the numbers from that slip of paper that was in Father’s box.” “What’s that?” inquired the judge, whirling around like a top. DesirÉ explained while Jack got the paper and they all examined it carefully. “1755 is the year,” decided the judge, “and 6754 the number of the deed; but—Wait a minute; I have an idea.” Out into the garden he hurried, followed by the whole family. With the hole as a base, he measured and calculated, while the others watched silently. “I have it!” he exclaimed at last. “W means west of the house; 15 is the depth of the hole, and 12 the distance from the edge of the lot.” “The mystery is solved at last!” exulted DesirÉ. Several weeks later the ownership of the little cabin was formally handed over to the Wistmores, under the guardianship of Judge Herbine, and their little fortune duly deposited to their credit, ready for the fall when Jack was to go to college, and DesirÉ to high school. The End |
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