'Many thanks, my dear, for your kindness,' he said, with stately, old-fashioned courtesy. 'We have much enjoyed the examination of your most interesting ruins, and if your Father had been at home to-day, I should have given myself the pleasure of thanking him in person. I shall make a point, however, of sending him a copy of my report in the Archæologian, where I trust he will find many items of information respecting the origin and history of the Abbey with which perchance he may be unacquainted. By-the-by, may I ask if any curiosities have ever been found while ploughing in these fields?'
'Not when they were ploughing,' said Peggy, finding her voice at last. 'But when we were digging last Easter here in the ruins we found a funny old box.'
'What!' cried the old gentleman, bouncing up in his excitement like an indiarubber ball. 'You actually found something here, in the Abbey, when digging? Sedgwick, do you hear that?'
The stout man smiled appreciatively.
'Perhaps our fair nymph will kindly describe the nature of the discovery,' he suggested.
'There was a big old stone box first,' began Peggy.
'A stone coffin!' gasped the old gentleman.
'But there weren't any bones inside,' continued Peggy, rather enjoying herself now that she had once broken the ice. 'It was something much queerer than that—a wooden box full of old books, with writing you can't read, and strange little pictures all round the pages.'
'And what have you done with them? Where are they? Can you show them to me?' cried the enthusiastic antiquarian, almost dancing with eagerness.
'They're in the loft. I'll take you if you'd like to look at them.'