I saw how mother’s face flushed with pleasure at the suggestion, but she hesitated.
“Perhaps Dick may be in the way,” she said. “Cecil tells me that Tom is preparing to enter Princeton, and much as I would like my boy to study with him—”
“My dear Mrs. Truman,” broke in our visitor, “it will have quite the opposite effect. Tom will study all the better for having a companion. Please say yes. It’s for my boy’s good, as well as yours.”
So it was settled; and when Mr. Chester left, he gave my hand a little extra pressure, and whispered a word in my ear which made me very happy. And how pleased Dick was! Every day, from ten o’clock till one, the boys were closeted with the tutor, while I got my lessons by myself. I can’t pretend that I enjoyed it, or that I always spent all that time in study. I’m afraid that a good part of it was spent in trying to puzzle out the mystery of the rose of Sharon, and that the rule of four to the right and three diagonally interested me more than did any relating to planes and lines and angles. But, at least, the time was not wholly wasted.
How the days flew by! I was afraid to count them; afraid to consult the calendar. The disaster which was set to happen on the seventeenth of May loomed steadily larger and larger as the march of time brought it inexorably nearer. The stately ticking of the old clock in the hall became a thing to lie awake at night and listen to with dread.
Not that we were idle, for the two boys and I spent every afternoon and almost every evening striving to solve the mystery. Dick was thoroughly in earnest, now, and Tom proved himself the most delightful and helpful of comrades. Dear mother did not actively aid us much—indeed, I think she had never permitted herself to believe that this beautiful place could be hers permanently; but we three young people kept at work with the energy of desperation.
We rooted up a good portion of the orchard, taking all sorts of measurements from the old apple tree which leaned, ragged and solitary, above the pasture fence. We sounded the trees for possible hollows, but found most of them dishearteningly sound. We dug up the earth for many yards around the tall althea bush, and around as many others as seemed in any way distinctive. As the spring advanced, a clump of lilies sprang up among the trees near the house, and formed the centre of another extensive circle of operations—all of which were absolutely fruitless of result, except the enlargement of already healthy appetites.
“I tell you what,” remarked Dick wearily, one evening, “I’m beginning to believe that grandaunt is playing a joke on us. You remember the story of the old fellow who left a big field to his heirs, saying in his will that a great treasure was concealed there—”
“Yes,” I interrupted; “Mr. Tunstall spoke of it, too; only he added that grandaunt could scarcely have meant that, since we wouldn’t be here to reap the harvest.”