emind me to tell you some day. Well, this
being so, of course we youngsters were keen set on discovery; and we
formed a league, called the Hovering Hawks. Each of us had his private
totem or sign; and when he made a discovery, he left a totem to tell
that he had been there. Jim's was an oyster-shell, because he considered
the world his oyster; Dick's was a ship, because he always meant to be a
sailor; Roger's was a book, of course, for obvious reasons; and mine was
an egg, Columbus's egg, because I meant to find things out. You see
there was no overstock of modesty among us, more than there is among
most healthy boys. We were ready for anything and everything. I dare say
some of you may have found oyster-shells about, in various inaccessible
places?"

Grace started, and blushed; then hung her head. "I--I found one," she
admitted. "It was in a cubbyhole in the parapet of the roof. I thought
of bringing it away, but it seemed as if some one had wanted to leave it
there, so I didn't touch it."

"Jim's Retreat," said Mr. Montfort. "He stayed up there two days once,
in a fit of sulks, and frightened my poor dear mother almost into an
illness. Father Montfort was away from home the first day; the second
day he came home, and went up after Master James. He was a powerful man,
Father Montfort, and an excellent climber. Yes, poor old Jim! he did not
climb again for several days. Well, as I was saying, after all this very
egotistical digression, I found the box in question some forty years
ago. I withdrew the--a--contents--and substituted for them my totem. The
contents I put--elsewhere."

He looked round the circle, smiling. Margaret, gazing earnestly at him,
saw his face, for the second time since she had known him, change from
that of a grave, thoughtful man into that of a mischievous boy, the
eager eyes alight with fun, the lips twitching with laughter.

"Wouldn't--you--like--to--know?" he began slowly, his eyes turning from
one to the other. Suddenly he broke off.

"There! the play is over, children. Margaret, you found the casket, you
shall find the--run your hand along the back of my chair here, my dear;
where it feels cold, press downward."

Margaret obeyed. A long narrow box or drawer shot out from the rolling
back of the great mahogany chair. Obeying Mr. Montfort's gesture,
Margaret lifted out of the nest of silky cotton something that sparkled
and glittered in the firelight. There was a long-drawn sigh from the