"Mister Fred. The last day he went to town. He was to buy enough for one picnic, so he brought home enough for two. That's ever his way. He's the good provider, is Mister Fred. Bless him!"
"Exactly. Well, I'll tell you, it is late, so I'll just drive down to tell the youngsters they'd better come up here and eat their supper. They'll be crazy wild for a sight of that chest and what was in it; and if they don't come to-day, they'll be besieging you all day to-morrow. When a thing like this happens, it belongs to the town."
"Don't neither; belongs to me. I found it. I'll keep it. I dare ye!"
"All right, lad. Don't worry. I wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot pole. I've heard of such things afore now, and never once that they didn't bring trouble. All I'm thankful for is you didn't kill anybody nor smash up the house with your fool blastin'. You won't get another chance to try, if I have to come right here and stay myself;" and he smiled sweetly toward Cleena, who ignored the smile, but agreed with the suggestion.
"Yes; that's right. That's sense. What for no? Troth, to-morrow's a Sunday, an' not to be disturbed o' none such havers. What's a bit of old dollars dug out o' the mud? An' Monday's me wash. Faith, it's sense in small matters ye're havin', Teamster John. Drive yon an' make haste back. I'll spread me a cloth on the grass an' each may eat like a heathen, does he like, that same as he was down in the woods."
"But they shan't touch it—they shan't even see it! It's mine. I'll keep it, understand?"
Cleena understood not only the words, but the lad with whom she had to deal.
"Whist, alanna, would you hide yourself, then? Faith, no; run avick. Put on your Sunday suit, brush yer hair, make yerself tidy, then stand up like a showman at Donnybrook fair, an' pass the time o' day with who comes. What for no? The box an' the gold must be showed. Such a thing can't be hid. Well, then, gossoon, just show it yerself."