CONJECTURES
Mollie Billette set the black iron box down on the log that had formed the seat for the outdoor girls. A little wind was rapidly drying the dampness. The wind even dried some of the sand on the box, and scattered it in a little rattling shower on a bit of paper on the beach.
The girls did not seem to know what to say. Betty looked back from her glance across the bay, in the direction of the now unseen boat, in time to notice Mollie, ever neat, wiping her damp hands on her pocket handkerchief. Amy was looking at the queerly-carved stick which had served her as a shovel to dig in the sand.
"Oh! Oh!" exclaimed Grace. "Isn't it wonderful! It really is a box!"
"Yes, it's certainly that, all right!" added the more practical Mollie.
"And if it should contain treasure!" went on Grace, rather at a loss because her chocolates were all gone.
"Old Tin-Back should have found this," commented Mollie.
"Or the boys," spoke Betty. "I wish they were here."
"The idea!" exploded Mollie. "As if we didn't know what to do as well as though the boys were here to tell us. That isn't our Little Captain; is it, girls?" she asked the others.
"Oh, I only meant about the legal end of it," said Betty, quickly.