“Yes, they are!” cried Laurie. “Look and see for yourself! Open them, Mrs. Deane!”
Ten minutes later, when the first excitement had somewhat subsided, Polly clapped her hands.
“Why,” she cried, “now we know what those sounds were we used to hear, Mama! They were Uncle Peter down there in the cellar! They were his footsteps! And only a little while ago I thought I heard sounds sort of like them! And that must have been you boys!”
“Of course,” agreed Bob. “And we could hear you folks up here quite plainly. There goes my last hope of catching a ghost!”
“How many are there to share in the money, Mrs. Deane?” asked George.
“Dear me, I’m not quite sure.” She looked inquiringly over her spectacles at Polly. “Weren’t there seven, dear?”
“Eight, Mama.”
“Well, even then it isn’t so bad” said George. “One eighth of sixty-two-thousand—”
“Seven thousand seven hundred and fifty,” announced Laurie, promptly. “And the bonds may be worth more than we figured, ma’am!”