As he did so, and created a gap, something fell down inside the kitchen with a thud and a rattle.
'Name o' goodness, what's that?' cried Ales from the fireplace, almost losing her hold of the iron pot she was hanging on the hook. 'Do you be going to bring the house about our ears?'
Another moment she sent up a scream, 'It's found! It's found! Thank God!'
But before she could lay hands upon the prize William was in the house, and had picked up a small oak box covered with dust and mould.
The scream of Ales brought Mrs. Edwards in from the farmyard with an apron full of eggs that fell with a smash to the floor.
What mattered the eggs? The sight of that curious old box drove eggs out of mind!
'Oh, goodness, Willem! That was your grandfather's box! Many a hunt your poor dear father did have for that box. Open it, quick!'
'It's locked, mother. I cannot force the hasp, it do fit so tight.'
'Ah, yes, I do forget. I do have kept the key all these years. Here, here, do make haste!'
How her fingers trembled as she brought from her deep pocket the big key of the coffer, and the tiny one so well preserved for—this.