“If they came from Alexandria and were genuine, they’d be worth quite as much as these, perhaps more. Why do you ask? You don’t happen to have one in your collection, do you?”
“Yes, sir! That is, not in my collection, but I’ve got some that—that my grandmother sent me.”
“What! Postmaster Provisionals of Alexandria, Virginia? Are you certain? What are they like? What are they?”
Mr. Chase was plainly interested.
“I don’t know whether they’re Postmaster Provisionals,” replied Willard, “but they’re a good deal like those in your book. They’re round and sort of yellowish-brown——”
“Yes, buff; go on!”
“And they have some stars around the edge and the name and ‘Paid—5’ in the middle, just like those of yours.”
“You say your grandmother gave them to you?”
“Yes, sir.” And thereupon Willard told about the legacy and Mr. Chase learned the real reason why the college career had been abandoned. And when he had finished Mr. Chase strode to a bookshelf and returned with a catalogue. After some excited turning of pages he paused and read silently. “That’s right,” he said finally. “Your description tallies with Scott’s. Where are those envelopes, Will? Can you let me see them?”
“I guess they’re at home. I haven’t seen them since that day. I—I hope mother didn’t throw them away!”