seems fairly light."

"It's very soft here," I said, putting in my spade as I spoke and
turning up the turf without much difficulty.

"So it is. Perhaps a rabbit has burrowed there and loosened the earth.
We'll go on here, as it seems an easy place."

We had not dug more than a foot deep when Cathy's spade struck upon
something hard.

"Stop, Philippa! Be careful!" she cried. "If there's really anything
here we mustn't spoil it on any account."

She went down on her knees, and, putting her hand into the hole we had
dug, began to feel about cautiously.

"There is! There actually is!" she exclaimed, and with eyes shining with
delight she drew forth a small round vessel fashioned somewhat in the
shape of an urn. It appeared to be made of baked clay, and was broken
and crumbling round the top and stained with darkish marks below.

"It must be two thousand years old or more," said Cathy, in a voice of
rapture. "And there's something inside it too!"

She turned it carefully upside down, and out fell a few little bones and
five worn and rusty-looking coins.

"Now, this _is_ a discovery," she continued. "No doubt it was a Celtic
chief who was buried here. They would burn his body first, and put his
bones in the urn along with a few Roman coins. You can't see the marks
on them, can you? Never mind, we'll rub them up when we go home. What an
addition to the collection! _Sha'n't_ we crow over the boys, just!"

We filled up the hole in the mound again, and went home elated with
pride, feeling that the British Museum itself might justly envy us our
possession. The boys were hanging about the gate as though they were
waiting for our return, though they certainly could not have known where
we had been that afternoon.

"Hullo! What have you got there?" they cried, as Cathy produced her
treasure.

"Don't ever dare to chaff me again about antiquities," she announced.
"What do you say to this?"

It might have been fancy, but I certainly thought I saw a wink pass
between Dick and Edward. Perhaps, however, I was mistaken, since they
all seemed duly impressed.

"Looks a real mouldy, crumbly, museum old kind of a performance," said
Edward.

"Must be genuine if you dug it up yourself," remarked Dick.

"You'll have to write about it to the newspaper," put in George. "What
sport for you to see your name in print!"

"Go and ask Evans for a box of metal-polish," said Cathy. "I must
certainly find out what the coins are, they'