He took down an oblong box of curious pattern, and opened it. "What upon earth—Margaret, what are these? Grape-scissors? Asparagus-tongs? They don't look like either."
"I should think not!" said Margaret, taking the object from his hand. "Why, it is a pair of curling-tongs. What queer things! No inscription on these; there isn't room for one. Here is a piece of paper in the box, though."
She took up a yellowish scrap, and read: "'My niece Jemima's curling-tongs, with which she, being impatient to make a Show above her Sisters, did burn off one Side of her Hair. Preserved as a Warning to young Women by me, Tabitha Montfort. 1803.' Poor Jemima! She was punished enough, without being held up to posterity in this way."
"She was an extravagant young lady," said Hugh, "with her silver tongs; I think it may have been good for her soul, if not her hair, to suffer this infliction. Are you going to keep these out, Margaret, for use? I do hope you will be more careful than Aunt Jemima was. Your hair—excuse me!—looks as if you had not used the irons for some time."
Margaret laughed, and patted the smooth waves of her hair. "It is some time!" she said. "Yours, on the other hand, Hugh, has more curl than may be altogether natural. I may have suspected you of the tongs, but at least I have had the charity to keep my suspicions to myself."
"You are extremely good, Miss Montfort. What have you got hold of now?"
"'Dear Johnny's Rattle!'" said Margaret, reading the label on a small box. "I wonder if that was Uncle John. See! silver bells; what a sweet tone!"
She shook a merry peal from the tiny bells. Hugh, who had been rummaging at the other end of the cupboard, replied with a clear blast blown on a small silver trumpet, which he now held up in triumph. "Here we are!" he cried. "This is the instrument for me. This was presented to Captain Hugh Montfort of the navy. What on earth could the gallant commander do with this at sea?"
"Whistle for a wind, of course," said Margaret, merrily. "What else? Come here and look at Grandfather Montfort's gold-bowed spectacles; they are big enough for an ox."
So the talk went on merrily, and box after box, bag after bag, was opened, sometimes with astonishing results. The bygone Montforts seemed to have been fond of silver, and to have vied with one another in their ingenious applications of it to domestic uses.