“It isn’t ours—or, it wasn’t ours—to give,” Ruth declared.
“I should say not!” ejaculated the puzzled Agnes.
“But I do know whom it belonged to,” said Ruth, quietly.
“Not Aunt Sarah?” gasped Agnes.
“No. Nobody at all here. It was hidden in our garret by Lemuel Aden when he was here the last time to see Uncle Peter.”
“Goodness me!” cried Agnes. “Lemuel Aden? That wicked old miser?”
“Yes.”
“But how do you know, Ruth Kenway? I thought he died in a poorhouse?”
“He did. That was like the miser he was.”
“But, if he’s dead—?” But Agnes did not follow the idea to its conclusion.