she pondered over it long, and all day
seemed absent-minded.

After tea, when they sat before the kitchen fire, as they always did,
with only the firelight flickering and dancing on the walls while they
knitted, or told stories, or talked, she told Hetty about her father:
that they had lived comfortably in this house, which he built, and that
everybody supposed that he had plenty of money, and would leave enough
to take care of his only child, but that when he died suddenly nothing
had been found, and nothing ever had been, from that day to this.

"Part of the place I let to John Thompson, Hetty, and that rent is all I
have to live on. I don't know what makes me think of old times so
to-night."

"I know," said Hetty; "it's that paper, and I know what it reminds me
of," she suddenly shouted, in a way very unusual with her. "It's that
tile over there," and she jumped up and ran to the side of the
fireplace, and put her hand on the tile she meant.

On each side of the fireplace was a row of tiles. They were Bible
subjects, and Miss Bennett had often told Hetty the story of each one,
and also the stories she used to make up about them when she was young.
The one Hetty had her hand on now bore the picture of a woman standing
before a closed door, and below her the words of the yellow bit of
paper: "Look, and ye shall find."

"I always felt there was something different about that," said Hetty
eagerly, "and you know you told me your father talked to you about
it--about what to seek in the world when he was gone away, and other
things."

"Yes, so he did," said Miss Bennett thoughtfully; "come to think of it,
he said a great deal about it, and in a meaning way. I don't understand
it," she said slowly, turning it over in her mind.

"I do!" cried Hetty, enthusiastically. "I believe you are to seek here!
I believe it's loose!" and she tried to shake it. "It _is_ loose!" she
cried excitedly. "Oh, Miss Bennett, may I take it out?"

Miss Bennett had turned deadly pale. "Yes," she gasped, hardly knowing
what she expected, or dared to hope.

A sudden push from Hetty's strong fingers, and the tile slipped out at
one side and fell to the floor. Behind it was an opening into the
brickwork. Hetty thrust in her hand.

"There's something in there!" she said in an awed tone.

"A light!" said Miss Bennett hoarsely.

There was not a candle in the house, but Hetty seized a brand from the
fire, and held it up and looked in.

"It