mer. "Dear Farmer Hartley,"
she said, "is it true, as Bubble told me, that your father used to go
down often into the vault of the old mill?"

"Why, yes, he did, frequent!" said the farmer, wondering. "'Twas a fancy
of his, pokin' about thar. But what--"

"Wait a moment!" cried Hilda, trembling with excitement. "Wait a moment!
Think a little, dear Farmer Hartley! Did you not tell me that when he
was dying, your father said something about digging? Try to remember
just what he said!"

The farmer ran his hand through his shaggy locks with a bewildered look.
"What on airth are ye drivin' at, Hildy?" he said. "Father? why, he
didn't say nothin' at the last, 'cept about them crazy di'monds he was
allus jawin' about. 'Di'monds' says he. And then he says 'Dig!' an' fell
back on the piller, an' that was all."

"Yes!" cried Hilda. "And you never did dig, did you? But now somebody
has been digging. Little Jock began, and I finished; and we have
found--we have found--" She broke off suddenly, and drawing her hand
from behind her back, held up the iron box. "Take it!" she cried,
thrusting it into the astonished farmer's hands, and falling on her
knees beside his chair. "Take it and open it! I think--oh! I am
sure--that you will not lose the farm after all. Open it quickly,
_please_!"

[Illustration: "'TAKE IT AND OPEN IT!'"]

Now much agitated in spite of himself, Farmer Hartley bent himself to
the task of opening the box. For some minutes it resisted stubbornly,
and even when the lock was broken, the lid clung firmly, and the rusted
hinges refused to perform their office. But at length they yielded, and
slowly, unwillingly, the box opened. Hilda's breath came short and
quick, and she clasped her hands unconsciously as she bent forward to
look into the mysterious casket. What did she see?

At first nothing but a handkerchief,--a yellow silk handkerchief, of
curious pattern, carefully folded into a small square and fitting nicely
inside the box. That was all; but Farmer Hartley's voice trembled as he
said, in a husky whisper, "Father's hankcher!" and it was with a shaking
hand that he lifted the folds of silk. One look--and he fell back in his
chair, while Hildegarde quietly sat down on the floor and cried. For the
diamonds were there! Big diamonds and little diamonds,--some rough
and dull, others flashing out sparks of light, as if they shone the
brighter for their long imprisonment; some tinged with yellow or blue,
some w