"Possibly," the youth admitted with a slight yawn.
"Yes," continued his father, busily searching for the mummy's right wrist, "she was probably what you would call a peach."
"She may have been a peach in her day," thought Harry, "but today she's a dried apricot."
The elder Marvin's searching fingers encountered a hard object. It proved to be a scarab, or sacred Egyptian beetle, carved in black stone.
"Did you ever dream about that?" asked Harry, chaffing.
"Yes, I have," replied Pauline. Both men looked at her to see if she were serious.
"I dreamed that I was very sick and going to die, and an old man with a long, thin beard came in. He gave me a stone beetle like that. Then it seems to me they put it right on my chest and they said—let's see, what did they do that for? I think it was to cure me of something the matter with my heart."
"Polly," said Mr. Marvin, "I never knew you had dreams like this. But are you sure they said it would cure your heart? Wasn't it for some other reason?"
Pauline thought a moment, while Harry lit a cigarette and his father worked his fingers down toward the mummy's right wrist.
"No," said Pauline, "I remember now. It wasn't to cure it at all. It was to make it keep quiet."