"Oh no, Brian; she lives in Bridge Lane—right on the other side of the town. If it had been nearer I would have asked you to go."
"Oh, it wouldn't take me long, aunt," answered the boy. "I'll ride on my bicycle; the lamp is trimmed; and I can have my tea when I come back."
"It's very kind of you to offer," answered Mrs. Ormond, hesitating. "I almost think I will ask you to go, if you're sure you aren't tired. I don't want to bring the poor soul all this way on Monday morning for nothing."
Brian started off at once, saying he should be back in half an hour; and his aunt and cousins sat down to tea.
"I hope father won't be later than seven," said Guy, glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece. "I want to know what's in that chest."
"Brian's been longer than he said," he remarked when, at the end of the meal, he pushed back his chair and rose from the table. "I expect he hasn't been able to find the old woman's house, or perhaps his tyre's punctured. Hullo! There's father!"
The boy's quick ears had caught the rattle of a latch-key, and immediately there was a rush into the hall. Mr. Ormond entered with the collar of his greatcoat turned up.
"Phew! it's cold," he said. "Hullo! What's the matter now?" Guy and Ida were both speaking at once.
"Father, did you put anything in Uncle Roger's box? It isn't empty now; there's something inside!"
"What d'you mean? I don't understand."