he black velvet coat? Or had her mother placed it there? The little
captain sighed. She could ask endless questions concerning her find,
but she could answer none of them.

"There may be a box in the trunk which I have overlooked," she
reflected. "I never do things thoroughly."

Springing from the floor, Madge ran across the attic to where her aunt
always kept a pile of brown wrapping paper. Tearing off a strip she
carried it to her corner and, laying it on the floor at one side of her
mother's trunk, sat down beside it. One by one, with reverent hands,
she lifted the various garments from it, piling them over one another
on the paper. But when the trunk, bereft of its last article, stood
empty before her, she stared in disappointment at the pile of articles
at her side. There was nothing in it that bore the slightest
resemblance to a box.

"It's like 'hunting for a needle in a haystack,'" she mourned. "This
key might fit a lock thousands of miles from here. It can't be the key
to the trunk; it is too small." She bent forward to examine the lock.
"No, the key to this trunk is ever so much larger. Perhaps the trunk
has a false bottom!"

This being a positive inspiration, Madge set to work on the bottom of
the trunk, her investigations meeting with no success. She was more
disheartened than she cared to admit, even to herself, as she replaced
the contents of the trunk and, reluctantly shutting down the lid,
gathered up her treasures and went down the stairs with dragging feet.
Her pleasure in the beautiful fabrics had vanished, and the longing to
probe into the past of her dear ones was uppermost in her mind.

Her first impulse on entering the kitchen, where Eleanor and her mother
still labored with the jelly, was to show them the little key. Then the
same strange influence which had forced her to return to the trunk kept
her silent. The finding of the little key should be her secret.

Mrs. Butler and Eleanor exclaimed admiringly over the silks. It was as
though they were seeing them for the first time. Eleanor was delighted
with the prospect of possessing an evening gown of the rose color, and
the two girls were soon deep in planning the way in which they intended
having their frocks made.

"May I keep Mother's jewel box with me, Aunt Sue?" asked Madge an hour
later, as she rose to go to her room, her roll of blue silk tucked
under one arm, the sandalwood box in her hand.

"Of course you may, my dear. As long as