"My gracious!" exclaimed Aunt Lizzie, throwing up her hands, and ready to sink to the floor in her astonishment; "they have got our silverware."
"You are right," added her sister, "they have the whole six pieces, slop-jar, sugar bowl, cream pitcher—not one of the six missing. They have them all; now we can go to church and enjoy the sermon more than ever."
The massive service of solid silver quaintly fashioned and carved by the puffy craftsmen of Amsterdam, who wrought and toiled when sturdy old Von Tromp was pounding the British tars off Goodwin Sands, more than two centuries ago, was carried into the house with considerable effort and set on the dining-room table, while for a minute or two the owners could do nothing but clasp and unclasp their hands and utter exclamations of wonder and thankfulness that the invaluable heirlooms had at last come back to them.
The detective and lad looked smilingly at the ladies, hardly less pleased than they.
"Where did you find them?" asked Aunt Lizzie, addressing herself directly to Mr. Carter, as was natural for her to do.
The detective pointed to the boy and said:
"Ask him."
"Why, what can Fred know about it?" inquired the lady, beaming kindly upon the blushing lad.
"He knows everything, for it was not I, but he, who found them."