st not "fair Fidele's grassy
tomb" be in the immediate neighbourhood?

Then followed the suggestion that the mound in the middle was a good
deal like an ancient tomb, where, as Blanche interposed with some of the
lore lately caught from Ethel's studies, "they used to bury their tears
in wheelbarrows," while Norman observed it was the more probable, as
fair Fidele never was buried at all.

The idea of a search enchanted the young ladies. "It was the right sort
of vehicle, evidently," said Norman, looking at Harry, who had been
particularly earnest in recommending that it should be explored; and
Meta declared that if they could but find the least trace, her
papa would be delighted to go regularly to work, and reveal all the
treasures.

Richard seemed a little afraid of the responsibility of treasure-trove,
but he was overruled by a chorus of eager voices, and dispossessed of
the trowel, which he had brought to dig up some down-gentians for the
garden. While Norman set to work as pioneer, some skipped about in wild
ecstasy, and Ethel knelt down to peer into the hole.

Very soon there was a discovery--an eager outcry--some pottery! Roman
vessels--a red thing that might have been a lamp, another that might
have been a lachrymatory.

"Well," said Ethel, "you know, Norman, I always told you that the
children's pots and pans in the clay ditch were very like Roman
pottery."

"Posthumus's patty pan!" said Norman, holding it up. "No doubt this was
the bottle filled with the old queen's tears when Cloten was killed."

"You see it is very small," added Harry; "she could not squeeze out
many."

"Come now, I do believe you are laughing at it!" said Meta, taking the
derided vessels into her hands. "Now, they really are genuine, and very
curious things, are not they, Flora?"

Flora and Ethel admired and speculated till there was a fresh, and still
more exciting discovery--a coin, actually a medal, with the head of
an emperor upon it--not a doubt of his high nose being Roman. Meta was
certain that she knew one exactly like him among her father's gems.
Ethel was resolved that he should be Claudius, and began decyphering the
defaced inscription THVRVS. She tried Claudius's whole torrent of names,
and, at last, made it into a contraction of Tiberius, which highly
satisfied her.

Then Meta, in her turn, read D.V.X., which, as Ethel said, was all she
could wish--of course it was dux et imperator, and Harry muttered into
Norman's