"So there might be," said Lilly with a start.
"It must ha' held somethin' valerble," said Maum' Hepsey, looking like a solemn old owl, "else why should he ha' been so mighty pertickeler 'bout havin' it stored safe? Den, ag'in, he must ha' been killed, else why shouldn't he ha' come back for it? An' why should we let de things—whatever is in it—moulder away, instead o' gettin' de good of 'em like sensible folks?"
"We shouldn't have any right," said I doubtfully.
"Oh shoo, chile, shoo! You'd have just as much right as de rats an' mice."
Lilly jumped up. "I think Maum' Hepsey's idea a good one," said she. "Who knows? That trunk may turn out a gold-mine."
Back we went to the house, and made an appeal to Aunt Nanny to be allowed to open the trunk.
"Dear me, girls! what will you think of next?" said she. "I had almost forgotten that old trunk."
"Tell us about the man who left it, aunty. What was his name?"
"That's what none of us know. He came here about dusk one evening—a wild, distracted looking man he was—and said he wanted to leave a trunk until called for. You know your uncle David was a commission-merchant, and very often had packages left with him for safe-keeping. He had a book in which he registered the names of the owners, descriptions of the parcels, etc. He turned to his desk to get out this ledger, and when he looked round again the man was gone. Your uncle ran to the door, but no trace of him was to be seen. He says that he would have thought the whole thing a dream, but for the little trunk on the floor."
"What a romance!" cried Lil.