The little girls, Tess and Dot, were too much excited over what the eve of Christmas, and the day itself should bring forth, to be much disturbed by even Ruths grave face.
When they ate dinner that night, in the light of the candles, it seemed as though they ate in a fairy grotto. The big dining room was beautifully trimmed, the lights sparkled upon the newly polished silver and cut glass, a beautiful damask tablecloth was on the board, and the girls in their fresh frocks and ribbons were a delight to the eye.
Dot could not keep her eyes off the open fireplace. Branches of pine had now been set up in the yawning cavern of brick; but plenty of room had been left for the entrance of a Santa Claus of most excellent girth.
Dots expecting another Santa or a burglar to tumble down the chimney at any moment, laughed Agnes.
Let us hope he wont be a plumber, said Ruth, smiling gravely. Another plumbers bill at Christmas would extract all the joy from our festivities.
Oh! What will Mr. Howbridge say when he sees the bill? queried Agnes, round-eyed, for she stood somewhat in awe of their very dignified guardian.
I dont much care what hell say, said Ruth, recklessly. Only I wish he were going to be with us to-morrow as he was at Thanksgiving. But he will not be back until long past New Years.
Before they rose from the table the doorbell began to ring and Uncle Rufus hobbled out to answer it and to receive mysterious packages addressed to the various members of the family. These gifts were heaped in the sitting room, and Tess and Dot were not even allowed a peep at them.
Neale came over and lit up the tree, to the delight of the little girls. The Creamer girls from next door came in to see it, and so did Margaret and Holly Pease from down Willow Street.
Sammy Pinkney had been told he could come; but the red comforter and the hoarse voice had not been for nothing. Mrs. Pinkney sent over word that Sammy had such a cold that she was forced to put him to bed. He was feverish, too; so his Christmas Eve was spent between blankets.
Oh! Im so sorry for Sammy, Dot said, feasting her eyes upon the glittering tree. I know he wont ever see anything so pretty as this.
Not if he turns pirate, he wont, Tess agreed severely. I think likely his being sick is a punishment for his saying that there isnt any Santa Claus.
The visiting little girls went home and Tess and Dot were sent off to bed. Not that they were sleepy oh, no, indeed! They declared that they positively could not sleep and then were in the Land of Nod almost before their heads touched the pillow.
Ruth kissed them both after she had heard their prayers, and then tiptoed out of the room. Downstairs was suppressed laughter and much running about. Agnes and Neale were beginning to tie the presents on the tree, and to fill the stockings hung on a line across the chimney-place.
Everybody even Uncle Rufus had hung up a stocking for Santa Claus to fill with goodies. It had cost infinite labor and urging to get Aunt Sarah to put her stocking in evidence for Kris Kringle; but there it was, a shapeless white affair with unbleached foot and top.
Mrs. MacCalls hung next rather a natty looking black stocking, if the truth were known one of a pair, the mate to which had long since been eaten by Billy Bumps, the goat.
Then came the girls stockings in one-two-three-four order, like a graduated course of bamboo bells. Then followed one of Neales golf stockings, which he had brought because it held more than a sock, with Lindas coarse red woollen hose and Uncle Rufus huge gray yarn sock at the end.
It was great fun to fill the hose and to tie the wonderfully curious packages on the tree and heap them underneath it. Neale was to get all his presents at the Corner House; so that added to the confusion. There was a special corner in the sitting room where Neales gifts had been hidden; and there he was supposed not to look.
Then Agnes had to go into the kitchen while her presents were being unearthed and properly hung. Last of all, Ruth retired, leaving Agnes and Neale to hang those gifts which the Good Saint had brought the eldest sister. Ruth was tired, for she had worked hard; so she went to sleep and had no idea how long her sister sat up, when Neale went home, or at what hour Mrs. MacCall locked the house and went up to bed.
Agnes and Neale had something besides the hanging of Ruths presents to interest them. The former found the big, old family album hidden behind the sewing machine in the sitting room. She sat down with Neale to look it over.
CHAPTER VI TREASURE TROVE
Why! Did you ever! gasped Agnes Kenway.
Thought you said it was a family photograph album! said Neale ONeil.
With their heads close together they were looking into the moth-eaten and battered book Agnes had found in the old Corner House garret. On turning the first page a yellowed and time-stained document met their surprised gaze.
There was a picture engraved upon the document, true enough. Such an ornate certificate, or whatever it might be, Agnes or Neale had never even seen before.
The Pittsburg & Washington Railroad Co., read Neale, slowly. Whew! Calls for a thousand dollars good at any bank.
Sandbank, I guess it means, giggled Agnes.
But Neale was truly puzzled. I never saw a bond before, did you, Aggie?
A bond! What kind of a bond?
Why, the kind this is supposed to be.
Why, is it a bond?
Goodness! you repeat like a parrot, snapped Neale.
And youre as polite as a a pirate, declared Agnes.
Well, did you ever see anything like this?
No. And of course, it isnt worth the paper its printed on. You know very well, Neale, that people dont leave money around loose like this!
This isnt money; it only calls for money, said the boy.
I guess it never called very loud for it, giggled Agnes.
Must be stage money, then, laughed Neale. Hi! heres more of it.
He had turned a leaf. There was another of the broad, important looking documents pasted in the old book.
And good for another thousand dollars! gasped Agnes.
Phony phony, chuckled Neale, meaning that the certificates were counterfeit.
But just see how good they look, Agnes said wistfully.
And dated more than sixty years ago! cried Neale. There were green-goods men in those days, eh? Hello! heres another.
Why, were millionaires, Neale, Agnes declared. Oh! if it were only real wed have an automobile.
This is treasure trove, sure enough, her boy chum said.
Whats that?
Whatever you find that seems to belong to nobody. I suppose this has been in the garret for ages. Hard for anybody to prove property now.
But its not real!
Yes I know. But, if it were ?
Oh! if it were! repeated the girl.
Wouldnt that be bully? agreed the boy. But he was puzzling over the mortgage bonds of a railroad which, if it had ever been built at all, was probably now long since in a receivers hands, and the bonds declared valueless.
And all for a thousand apiece, Neale muttered, turning the pages of the book and finding more of the documents. Cracky, Aggie, theres a slew of them.
But shouldnt they be made out to somebody? Oughtnt somebodys name to be on them? asked Agnes, thoughtfully.
But shouldnt they be made out to somebody? Oughtnt somebodys name to be on them? asked Agnes, thoughtfully.
No, guess not. These must be unregistered bonds. I expect somebody once thought he was awfully rich with all this paper. It totes up quite a fortune, Aggie.
Oh, dear! sighed Agnes. I guess its true, Neale: The more you have the more you want. When we were so poor in Bloomingsburg it seemed as though if we had a dollar over at the end of the month, we were rich. Now that we have plenty all we really need, I spose I wish we were a little bit richer, so that we could have an auto, Neale.
Uh-huh! said Neale, still feasting his eyes on the engraved bonds. Cracky, Aggie! theres fifty of em.
Goodness! Fifty thousand dollars?
All in your eye! grinned Neale. What do you suppose they ever pasted them into a scrap-book for?
Thats just it! cried Agnes.
Whats just it?
A scrap-book. I didnt think of it before. They made this old album into a scrap-book.
Who did? demanded the boy, curiously.
Somebody. Children, maybe. Maybe Aunt Sarah Maltby might tell us something about it. And it will be nice for Tess and Dot to play with.
Huh! grunted Neale.
Of course thats it, added the girl, with more assurance. Its a scrap-book like a postcard album.
Huh! grunted Neale again, still doubtful.
When Mrs. MacCall was a little girl, she says it was the fad to save advertising cards. She had a big book full.
Well mebbe thats it, Neale said grudgingly. Lets see what else there is in the old thing.
He began to flirt the pages toward the back of the book. Why! he exclaimed. Heres some real stage money. See here!
Oh! oh!
Doesnt it look good? said Neale, slowly.
Just as though it had just come from the bank. What is it Confederate money, Neale? Eva Larry has a big collection of Confederate bills. Her grandfather brought it home after the Civil War.
Oh! these arent Confederate States bills theyre United States bills. Dont you see? cried Neale.
Oh, Neale!
But you can bet they are counterfeit. Of course they are!
Oh, dear!
Silly! Good money wouldnt be allowed to lie in a garret the way this was. Somebodyd have found it long ago. Your Uncle Peter, or Unc Rufus or somebody. What is puzzling me is why it was put in a scrap-book.
Oh! theyre only pasted in at the corners. Theres one all loose. For ten dollars, Neale!
Well, you go out and try to spend it, Aggie, chuckled her boy chum. Youd get arrested and Ruth would have to bail you out.
Its just awful, Agnes declared, for folks to make such things to fool other folks.
Its a crime. I dont know but you can be punished for having the stuff in your possession.
Goodness me! Then lets put it in the stove.
Hold on! Lets count it, first, proposed Neale, laughing.
Neale was turning the leaves carefully and counting. Past the tens, the pages were filled with twenty dollar bills. Then came several pages of fifties. Then hundred dollar notes. In one case which brought a cry of amazement to Agnes lips a thousand dollar bill faced them from the middle of a page.
Oh! goodness to gracious, Neale! cried the Corner House girl. What does it mean?
Neale, with the stub of a pencil, was figuring up the treasure on the margin of a page.
My cracky! look here, Aggie, he cried, as he set down the last figure of the sum. Thats what it is!
The sum was indeed a fortune. The boy and girl looked at each other, all but speechless. If this were only good money!
And its only good for the children to play with, wailed Agnes.
Neales face grew very red and his eyes flashed. He closed the book fiercely. If I had so much money, he gasped, Id never have to take a cent from Uncle Bill Sorber again as long as I lived, I could pay for my own education and go to college, too!
Oh! Neale! couldnt you? And if it were mine wed have an auto, repeated Agnes, and a man to run it.
Pooh! I could learn to run it for you, proposed Neale. But it was plain by the look on his face that he was not thinking of automobiles.
Say! dont lets give it to the kids to play with not yet, he added.
Why not?
I I dont know, the boy said frankly. But dont do it. Let me take the book.
Oh, Neale! you wouldnt try to pass the money? gasped Agnes.
Huh! think Im a chump? demanded the boy. I want to study over it. Maybe Ill show the bonds to somebody. Who knows they may still be of some small value.
We ell of course, the money
Thats phony sure! cried Neale, hastily. But bonds sometimes are worth a little, even when they are as old as these.
No-o, sighed Agnes, shaking her head. No such good luck.
But you dont mind if I take the book? Neale urged.
No. But do take care of it.
So Neale took the old scrap-book home under his arm, neither he nor Agnes suspecting what trouble and worriment would arise from this simple act.
CHAPTER VII GOD REST YE, MERRIE GENTLEMEN
There was a whisper in the corridor, a patter of softly shod feet upon the stair.
Even Uncle Rufus had not as yet arisen, and it was as black as pitch outside the Corner House windows.
The old dog, Tom Jonah, rose, yawning, from his rug before the kitchen range, walked sedately to the swinging door of the butlers pantry, and put his nose against it. The whispering and pattering of feet was in the front hall, but Tom Jonahs old ears were sharp.
The sounds came nearer. Tess and Dot were coming down to see what Santa Claus had left them. Old Tom Jonah whined, put both paws to the door, and slipped through. He bounded through the second swinging door into the dining room just as the two smallest Corner House girls, with their candle, entered from the hall.
Oh, Tom Jonah! cried Tess.
Merry Christmas, Tom Jonah! shouted Dot, skipping over to the chimney-place. Then she squealed: Oh-ee! He did come, Tess! Santa Claus has been here!
Well, sighed Tess, thankfully, its lucky Tom Jonah didnt bite him.
Dot hurried to move a chair up to the hearth, and climbed upon it to reach her stocking. The tree was in the shadow now, and the children did not note the packages tied to its branches.
Dot unhooked her own and her sisters stockings and then jumped down, a bulky and knobby hose under each arm.
Come on back to bed and see whats in them, proposed Tess.
No! gasped Dot. I cant wait I really cant, Tess. I just feel as though I should faint.
She dropped right down on the floor, holding her own stocking clasped close to her breast. There her gaze fell upon a shiny, smart-looking go-cart, just big enough for her Alice-doll, that had been standing on the hearth underneath the place where her stocking had hung.
Oh! oh! OH! shrieked Dot. I know I shall faint.
Tess was finding her own treasures; but Tess could never enjoy anything selfishly. She must share her joy with somebody.
Oh, Dot! Lets show the others what weve got. And Ruthie and Aggie ought to be down, too, she urged.