"Here." She gave it to Marley, who without more ado jumped on his wheel and coasted down among the trees and off over the soft grass.
"You open it, Phil. My spectacles ain't here anyway," said Miss Priscilla anxiously.
So Philip tore open the envelope. The look of amazement which overspread his face as the message greeted him caused Miss Burridge to exclaim fearfully: "Speak out, speak out, Phil."
"They must have taken this down wrong at the store," he said. Then he read the scrawled words slowly. "'Look in broiler oven for legs.'"
The cryptic sentence appeared to have a magical effect upon Miss Priscilla. Her face beamed and she threw up her hands in thanksgiving.
"Glory be!" she exclaimed devoutly.
"What am I stumbling on?" said Philip. "Have you taken to wiring in cipher?"
"You see" said Miss Priscilla excitedly, reaching for the telegram which Philip yielded, "it came without any legs. Mr. Buell himself looked it over on the wharf and said he couldn't find 'em anywhere; and, of course, it was a terrible anxiety to me and I wrote to them right off, and I was goin' to get Mr. Buell to set it up without the legs if necessary and stick somethin' else under. Come and help me look, Phil."
Miss Burridge seized the young fellow's arm and dragged him into the kitchen, where in one corner reposed the new stove in its shining newness, its parts piled ignominiously lop-sided. Talking all the time, its owner pulled open one door after another, as Philip disengaged them, and at last she laid hands on the missing treasure.