“Start right in now—the sooner the quicker for me!” replied Uncle Bill.
But the most careful and minute search by the boys failed to locate anything like a brooch. Finally, every one on Isola Bella was enlisted in the campaign, but without success. Several old croquet balls, some tennis balls, a lost doll of Betty’s and other valueless miscellany were combed out from the tall ferns but no diamonds.
Then Bill yelled with joy. “I’ve got it! Here is the bunch of sparkles!”
Every one ran swiftly to be in “at the death,” but it turned out to be a bit of broken cut-glass that lay hidden in the dew-covered green moss.
The indefatigable work of the hunters had to be rewarded whether the pin was found or not, so all were invited to sit down to a well-laden table for lunch.
They sat discussing all possible and impossible places where the diamonds might be, but Aunt Miriam refused to be comforted and Uncle Bill seemed quite unnatural in his rôle of penitent.
“Well, Miriam, you may have lost the diamonds but still you are more fortunate than that poor man and his wife who lost their launch last night,” remarked Uncle Bill, surprised at his wife’s unusual persistence in harping on her loss.
“But I didn’t lose it—you are the guilty one!” said she.
“If I had that blamed old sunburst in my hand to make you happy again, I’d help stake that poor old duffer to a new launch! I swear I would!” declared Uncle Bill, recklessly.
Quietly then, Aunt Miriam rose from her chair and came around the table to lean over his shoulder. He thought she was about to pat him consolingly on the head and say, “Never mind, dear.”