“No, you won’t—Tiffany says his store is to be closed all day to-morrow,” laughed Mr. Ashby.
“Why—some one in his family dead?” asked Elizabeth.
“No—but it is Sunday, and he is a church member.”
Every one laughed, as it had been forgotten the Sabbath was so near at hand. Then Eleanor had an idea.
“Why wait for Tiffany? Maybe the box will give us a clue.” So she found her box and examined it. Inside the silk-padded lid were the words in gold ink: “Rainbow Cliffs’ Jewel Company.”
“Oh, oh! It is our lava! Polly, now you can carry a little of Pebbly Pit about with you!” cried Eleanor, dancing about.
“Yes, it is a bit of Polly’s own dear heath. These are the very first jewels the company perfected. And as I am one of the corporation, I wheedled the cutter into giving me his first output. So, girls, you not only have pretty pins, but also you have what may be considered a curiosity,” explained Mr. Dalken.
“Are you one of our company?” Polly asked, eagerly.
“Yes, Mr. Ashby and I took stock soon after the fire, because we said this was going to be a big thing, some day.”
“I’m so glad, Mr. Dalken,” said Polly simply, and in a voice that only he could hear. “I like you so much, and I’m happy to know that you and I are members, together, in something.”