“And don’t you think he did?” asked Spink, with so much interest that the others were amused.
“Humph!” responded Harris, gravely. “I don’t know. He might have hidden bonds–or deeds–or even bank notes.”
“Pshaw!” exclaimed Mr. Bray, laughing. “That’s imagination.”
“You need not mind, Professor,” said old Mr. Colesworth, sharply. “If there is money, or treasure, hidden there in the house, or on the place, and you have bid the place in, as I understand you have, it will be ‘treasure trove’–it will belong to you–if you find it.”
“Ha!” ejaculated Professor Spink, darting the old gentleman rather an angry glance.
“I don’t know whether it is altogether talk and imagination, or not,” said Harris, ruminatively. “Cyrus Pritchett was with Bob Harrison when he died. And he says the old man talked of this hidden money–or treasure–or what-not–up to the very time be became unconscious. He had a shock, you know, and it stopped his speech like that,” and Harris snapped his finger and thumb.
“It sounds like a story-book,” said Grandma Castle, complacently.
“It doesn’t sound sensible,” observed Lyddy, drily.
“I’m giving it to you for what it’s worth,” remarked Harris, good-naturedly. “Mr. Pritchett was sitting up with Harrison when the old man had his final shock. Harrison had been mumbling along to Cyrus about what he wanted done with certain of his possessions. And he says:
“‘There’s that hid away that will be wuth money–five thousand in hard cash–some day, Cy.’