s shaggy curly head brushed, and
scratched with the fine comb, and it was Jane's office to be
comber-in-chief--a duty she was prone to shirk if she could.

"What are you after, Humbug--a new doll?"

"No," she replied in an injured tone. "I just wanted to know what a
cestificut is."

"A what?"

"A cestificut--those kind of papers we found in the cave."

"Oh, a certificate. Why Chicken Little a certificate--I don't know
whether I can make you understand. There are several kind of
certificates, but those were bank certificates."

Chicken Little looked decidedly puzzled.

"Those pieces of paper showed that Alice's father once owned part of the
National Bank here."

"Doesn't he own it now?"

"Mr. Fletcher is dead, as you know, and the question is whether they
belong to Alice as her father's heir. That is what we were talking about
last night. But don't bother your small head about such things."

Jane combed away industriously for several minutes giving him sundry
pats and smoothing his forehead deftly.

"Alice says if they was really hers she could sell them and go to school
and be like other people. I think Alice is like other people now--don't
you?"

"Alice--like other people?" Dr. Morton had been lost in the depths of
his newspaper. "Alice is all right--a very worthy girl--but I doubt if
she has any more chance of getting hold of that bank stock than the man
in the moon. The papers were evidently stolen from Gassett's house along
with the silver. It does look queer that they are still in Donald
Fletcher's name, but people are mighty careless sometimes about business
affairs--though it isn't like Gassett--he looks out for his own pretty
carefully."

"Is there anything you could do about it, Father?" asked Mrs. Morton who
had come in and overheard this last remark. "Alice seems very much
wrought up and I promised her I would speak to you."

"Why, I told her last night if I were in her place I'd just hold on to
the papers and see if Gassett inquires for them and if he does, make him
prove his right to them. It's up to him to show they are his."

"Are they very valuable?"

"Yes, they are worth about five thousand dollars. It would be a windfall
for Alice, all right."

Mrs. Morton considered.

"Well, I don't know what a girl in her position would do with that much
money if she had it." Mrs. Morton was English and very firm in the
belief that class distinctions were a part of the Divine plan.

"Chicken