The question settled, they all gathered round while Alison unscrewed the old-fashioned burner of the lamp. "Maybe there is some magic about it," she said, laughing nervously. "I feel like Aladdin. Shall I try rubbing it first? But it doesn't need any rubbing to brighten it."
The screw was a little stiff, but presently it turned. She removed it and peered curiously in the top.
"It is stuffed full of paper," she said. "More packing, I suppose. Wait till I pull it out."
"Careful," her father said, as she drew out a folded paper. He took it from her, and waited while she drew out another and another of the thin folded slips, until he had a handful. The bowl was large, and held a good many of those folded papers. When Alison had drawn out the last one, and turned to him, quite pale with excitement, he placed the packet in her hand.
"Alison, child, it is two thousand dollars!"
"Two thousand! Oh, father! Oh, mother!"
The children wondered why "Sister" should cry because her wonderful lamp was full of money; but her mother understood.
"Only I don't feel that it ought to be mine," she said presently. "It ought to be yours, father. Please take it. I am sure Aunt Justina meant it for you. It is too much money for me to spend."
"No, little daughter. I think Aunt Justina knew very well what she was about. She wanted me to know that she had forgiven my obstinacy, and so she left it to my daughter. You may use it with a clear conscience. You have borne the disappointment bravely, and we are glad you should have this bequest."
He kissed her, and Alison hid her face on his shoulder for a moment, quite overcome with joy and surprise and gratitude, and then ran away to her own room without another word.