“The owner of such treasures cannot be classed as poverty-stricken,” Irene said to Josie, who stopped by her for a moment, her arms loaded with books that were too precious to be entrusted to any possible tenant no matter how worthy he or she might prove.
“No, but Mary Louise could never sell them. That’s the pleasure of owning things like that. They are priceless and still worthless because one could never part with them. A cabinet like that always makes me think of honest love, something quite intangible when one tries to count its value in dollars and cents.”
Irene smiled. No matter how occupied Josie was she could always stop for a bit of homily.
“You have in mind all the time the possibility of coming across some clue to the Colonel’s papers, haven’t you?” whispered Irene.
“Yes, indeed, but so far no sign of them! I have even been around to see the dear old gentleman to whom Irene sent some suits, thinking something might be found in the pockets, but nothing doing! I have also been over the things sent to the Salvation Army. When this house is finally turned over to a tenant, there is not going to be an inch that I have not personally inspected.”
“I know you are as thorough as can be and I’ll wager anything that you will find some clue before you have finished,” declared Irene, holding up to the light a wonderful little twisted vase of porphyry. “Just see these colors, Josie. It seems almost wrong to wrap it away in tissue paper so nobody can enjoy it. I wonder if dear Mary Louise will ever have a suitable home again where she can have her things around her.”
“Sure she will! Mary Louise is not the kind to stay down. She has been in holes before this and always come out and not a bit of dirt sticking to her either.”
The most difficult thing to do was to get old Aunt Sally and Uncle Eben off to Virginia. They were loath to go when the time came in spite of the fact that they confessed that they were quite set up to be the owners of an excellent farm with a comfortable house and good outbuildings, situated in the county where both of them had been born.
“We’ll cut some ice ’mongst them niggers at big meetin’ time,” boasted Uncle Eben. “Me’n Sally’ll go a drivin’ our own mule an’ maybe it’ll be two mules, not hitched side by each but one a followin’ arfter tother, tandem, lak circus parades.”
“You know I ain’t a goin’ ter no big meetin’ lookin’ lak no circus,” objected Aunt Sally.