"An old letter of grandpa's, probably," she said aloud, taking hold of the corner to draw it out. It stuck fast; but a second effort released it, amid a shower of splintered glass; and to her amazement she found in her possession a time-stained document that had a mysteriously legal air. Trembling with excitement she unfolded it, and, without stopping to think that it might not be for her eyes, began to read the queer writing, which was somewhat difficult to decipher:
"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. I, Bernard Mahon, being of sound and disposing mind, do hereby declare this to be my last will and testament."
"Uncle Bernard's will!" gasped Emily. "It must be the one father always said uncle told him about, but which never could be found. Perhaps he slipped it in here for safe-keeping." Eagerly she scanned it, crying at last, "Yes, yes! Hurrah! O Cousin Irene!" she called out, hearing the latter's step in the hall.
When Miss Graham entered Emily was waltzing around the room, waving the document ecstatically. "See what I've found!" she cried, darting toward her with an impulsive caress.
Cousin Irene took the paper, and, as she perused it, became, though in a less demonstrative fashion, as agitated as Emily. "Your father!" she stammered.
Mr. Mahon had come into the house and was now in the little study, which he called his den. Cousin Irene and Emily almost flew thither, and a few minutes later his voice, with a glad ring in it, was heard calling first his wife and then the children to tell them the joyful news.
The will so long sought, so strangely brought to light, made a great change in the family fortunes. By it Bryan, the old man's son, who was unmarried and dissipated, was entitled to merely a certain income and life-interest in the estate, which upon his demise was to go to the testator's nephew William (Mr. Mahon) and Cousin Irene. In fact, however, at his father's death, Bryan, as no will was discovered, had entered into full possession of the property; and when within a year his own career was suddenly cut short, it was learned that he had bequeathed nothing to his relatives but a few family heirlooms.
"I did not grudge Bryan what he had while he lived," said Mr. Mahon; "but when, after the poor fellow was drowned, we heard that he had left all his money to found a library for 'the Preservation of the Records of Sport and Sportsmen,' I did feel that, with my boys and girls to provide for and educate, I could have made a better use of it. And Cousin Irene would have been saved a good deal of hard work if she could have obtained her share at the time. Thank God it is all right now, and the library with the long name will have to wait for another founder."
The girls of the literature class soon heard of their friends' good fortune, and were not slow in offering their congratulations.
One day, some two years after, when Anna and Rosemary happened to call at the Mahons', a chance reference was made to the discovery of the will. "Only think," exclaimed Rosemary, "how much came about through the spoiling of that mirror! Emily, you surely can never again believe it unlucky to break a looking-glass?"