“Well,” said Judge Herbine, darting into the room and up to the table, “lots of excitement. Got anything to open it with, Jack? It’s locked.”
With considerable difficulty they managed to force the lock, and pry up the cover. Then everyone crowded around to peer inside. The box was filled with gold and silver pieces.
“Money!” gasped Jack.
“Oh,” cried Desiré, “it must have been out there ever since the Expulsion. I read in my little blue history that some of the Acadians buried their savings in their gardens before they left the country, because they expected to come back again very soon.”
“Then it probably belonged to our ancestors,” said Jack slowly.
“Let’s tip it out,” proposed the judge. “It looks to me like a goodly sum.”
Tarnished and dull, it lay in a heap on the table; and as the judge turned the box right side up again, he caught sight of some papers in the bottom.
“Documents of some kind!” he exclaimed, loosening them carefully.
Stiff, yellow with age, the writing was dim but discernible.
“That’s a will, isn’t it?” asked Jack, catching sight of a few words at the top of the sheet, as the man unfolded it slowly.