FOUND.
[Illustration: Decorative I]
t actually rained the next day!
'Who would have thought it?' said Kathie, with a face of great content.
'The weather so seldom does what one wants.'
'We can set to work immediately after breakfast,' said Philippa. For the
rose-coloured silk and the white had come from Hafod the evening before,
'just what one wanted,' and Miss Clotilda had given them the
satchet-powder, and had promised to look out some lace that would do for
edging. 'We have got everything right now,' the little girl went on, her
eyes sparkling.
So they established themselves in the library, with a newspaper spread
out on the table to catch all the shreds and cuttings.
'And the bran,' added Neville, as he brought in a paper bag filled with
the article in question. 'Bran's awfully messy stuff.'
He opened the bag as he spoke, and plunged his hand in.
'I like the feeling of it,' he said.
Philippa stood gazing at the paper bag.
'Is that bran?' she said, 'Let me feel it too. I didn't know bran was
like that,' she went on; 'I thought it was something like cotton-wool.'
'Oh, you silly girl,' said Kathie, but Neville checked her. 'How should
she know?' he said. 'She's never been in England till this year.'
But Philippa was not attending. She had pulled back her sleeve, and had
plunged her arm into the bag.
'Kathie,' she said, '_that's_ the stuff my pocket was filled with in my
dream. _Isn't_ it funny? For I didn't know about making the pincushions
then--and I didn't know till this minute what bran was like.'
She was quite excited about it, and the others agreed it was very
curious. But the work soon engrossed them all. Neville had something to
do too this morning. He took charge of emptying the cushions of the old
bran, and re-filling them, and most interesting work he found it, the
first part especially. He shook out the cushions on to another
newspaper, and for some minutes did not speak. Then Kathie looked round
and asked him what he was doing.
'Oh,' he said, 'this is such jolly fun! Just look here, Kathie and
Phil,' and he pointed to a row of needles and a few pins at the side of
his newspaper. 'I've found all these in the bran. And I expect there are
a lot more, and some ends of old brooch pins--looks like real gold,' he
went on, holding up one--'it's as good as a hunt. You have to spread the
stuff out quite thin and flat, and even then you've no idea how the
needles hide. Hullo! here's another.'
[Illustration]
Kathie and Philippa watched him for a few moments.
'Yes,' said Kathie, 'it's very interesting. But we must get on with our
work. And when are you going to fill the cushions with the new bran for
us, Neville? I can stitch them up as soon as they are filled, and we
must put a little bag in near the top with the scent-powder, Phil.'
'They won't take five minutes to do,' said Neville. 'Will you fetch me a
big spoon, Kathie? It'll make less mess.'
And in a very few minutes, as he said, the cushions were filled. Then
Neville went back to his needle-hunt, and for a quarter of an hour or so
he was quite silent. Then he began to fidget.
'I wish I had some more to do,' he said. 'Kathie, hasn't aunty any more
to be made over?'
Kathie shook her head.
'No; the other two she wants to keep as they are for the present, she
says,' Kathie replied.
'I've finished this stuff,' said Neville. 'Here--you may divide the
needles among you. There are more than thirty. I'm going to keep these
brooch pins to test if they're pure gold. Oh, I wish it would leave off
raining!'
Suddenly he jumped up and ran out of the room. In about ten minutes he
was back again, another old pincushion and two or three pieces of silk
in his hand.
'Aunty says I may undo this one,' he said, waving it over his head.
'It's the one out of my own room. I just remembered it was very shabby,
and aunty says I may undo it and fill it fresh, if one of you girls will
help me to cover the top again. The frill isn't the same silk, you see,
and it isn't dirty--the top's all pin-holed. I expect there'll be a
jolly good lot of needles in this one. Here goes!' And he took the
scissors and began to unpick it.
'How funny you are, Neville!' said Kathie. 'You're quite excited over
your needle-hunting. Now just see here, Phil; should we turn in the
inside lining or tack it down _outside_?' and a discussion ensued
between the two girls, and they paid no more attention to Neville.
On his side he was very quiet for some minutes. Neither Kathleen nor
Philippa heard a curious sound--a sort of smothered exclamation--which
escaped him. Nor did his sister notice that he had left his seat and was
standing beside her, till he touched her on the arm.
'Kathie,' he said, and his voice sounded strange and almost hoarse, and
Kathie, looking up, saw that he was deadly pale.
'Oh, Neville,' she exclaimed, 'what is the matter? Have you swallowed a
needle?'
He could scarcely help smiling.
'Nonsense, Kathie,' he said. 'Nothing's the matter. It is this,' and he
held out a sheet of note-paper, with some writing on it. The paper
looked rather yellow, and was marked here and there at the edges as if
it had been stitched. 'This is the paper that was in my pincushion, just
like the others. It was meant to have the date upon it, I suppose. But
it isn't that--look what it is instead. I can scarcely believe it. I
feel as if I was dreaming. I want you to read the words.'
And Kathie read--though with some difficulty, for she too felt as if she
were dreaming, and the lines danced before her eyes. They were very
few, however, and very legible, in Mrs. Wynne's clear, precise
handwriting.
'My will, and some other papers of less importance, will be found
in the plate-chest--containing the best silver--underneath the
lining of green baize in the bottom of the box. The lining is only
tacked in and will be easily removed.
'DAVIDA WYNNE.'
Kathie, without speaking, turned the sheet of paper round. On the other
side was written, what Neville had not noticed, a date, 'Ty-gwyn, May
15th, 1859,' just as there had been in the other pincushions, only this
was an older one.
Kathie's eyes sparkled, and the power of speech seemed to return to her.
'Yes,' she said, 'she had thought this was a blank sheet, and she put
the blank sheet in the envelope of "directions," and sealed it up, by
mistake. Neville, Neville, Phil, it's _it_!'
Neville was trembling so, he could scarcely stand.
'What shall we do?' he said. 'I can't bear to risk any more
disappointment for aunty. If we could look ourselves, first, but we
can't. Suppose it isn't there after all--or suppose it doesn't leave
things as they think. She may have changed--Mrs. Wynne, I mean.'
'No,' said Kathleen, 'I'm not afraid of the will _if it's there_. Mrs.
Wynne told aunty almost the last thing that it would be all right. But
she may have changed the place of keeping it--though it's not likely.
I'll tell you what, Neville--I'll ask aunty if she has ever looked in
that plate-chest, and see what she says.'
'Yes,' said Neville, who was recovering his composure by now. 'We might
do that. It would make it less of a disappointment if it _weren't_
there.'
'Oh,' said Kathie, 'we could get her to show us the plate-chest even
without that. Yes--that will be best. I'm sure I can manage it.'
'But then,' said Neville, 'we'd have to tell her about this paper all
the same. We couldn't conceal it.'
'No; but don't you see that there would be no _disappointment_ about it.
She would know at once that it wasn't there before she could hope or
wonder about it. I don't think she could bear any more "hoping,"
Neville.'
'No,' he agreed, 'I don't think she could.'
And he felt both pleased and surprised at Kathie's womanly
thoughtfulness for her aunt.
'We _can't_ work any more till we know for sure about it,' said little
Phil. 'Oh, Kathie, do settle something quickly.'
'I'm going to,' said Kathie. 'Put all our things together neatly, Phil.
I'll be back in a minute.'
And in less than five she was back.
'Phil, Neville,' she called out, 'you're to come up-stairs to the
locked-up room where aunty keeps the best linen, and the best china, and
the best silver. Aunty's going to show it all to us because it's a wet
day, and we don't want to work any more.'
'It is better not to tire yourselves over the pincushions,' said Miss
Clotilda's gentle voice behind her, 'and you will have all the afternoon
for them. I am sure it is not going to clear. So come along. I have got
my keys. It is a very good idea of yours, Kathie.'
Up jumped Neville and Phil. Kathie was already nearly at the top of the
staircase, Miss Clotilda following more slowly. From the long passage
which ran almost the length of the house on the first floor, she led the
way down a shorter one, then up a little flight of steps ending in a
small landing where there were two doors.
Miss Clotilda pointed to one on the right.
'That was the old butler's room,' she said. 'He left last year, for he
was too old to work and he would not rest while here.'
'Is he dead?' asked Neville.
'Yes,' she replied; 'he died a week or so before Mrs. Wynne did. I have
often thought,' she added, with a sigh, 'that he might have known
something had he been alive.'
She chose a key and opened the other door. It led into a fair-sized
room. All round three sides were large cupboards; one or two big cases
stood on the floor, and at one side were two strongly-made wooden
chests.
'The linen is in those cupboards,' Miss Clotilda went on, 'and the best
china near the window. In those boxes there are some new blankets and
counterpanes that Mrs. Wynne never saw. They had just been ordered. And
those are the two plate chests. Nearly all the silver is laid away.'
Kathie looked at Neville.
'Best and every-day silver all together?'
'Oh, no,' said Miss Clotilda. 'The _best_ is in this one,' and she
touched it; 'the other was only brought up here for greater security
when Mrs Wynne died, and I had to stay on here alone with Martha. Now,
what shall I show you first, children? The china, perhaps, would please
you the most?'
'No, thank you, aunty,' said Neville and Kathleen; 'please show us the
best silver first.'
Miss Clotilda looked a little surprised.
'Well, I daresay, it _is_ interesting,' she said. 'There are some very
curious old things.'
She chose another key as she spoke, and in another moment the lock,
which was an excellent one, though very old, was opened. Inside, the
chest was divided into several compartments, all lined with green baize;
all filled with every kind of silver articles, carefully enveloped in
tissue paper.
'You may lift out a tray at a time,' his aunt said to Neville; 'it is
astonishing how many there are, and what that box will hold.'
Neville obeyed, indeed he did more than obey; he went on lifting out
tray after tray, and placing them in rows on the floor.
'Stop, my dear boy,' said Miss Clotilda, 'let us look at one at a time.
You will cover the floor with them--and'--
'Let me take all out,' said Neville. 'I want to get to the bottom of the
box. I know how to put them back again.'
Miss Clotilda said no more. Kathie and Philippa came to Neville and
peered into the chest.
[Illustration: 'THAT IS ALL,' SAID NEVILLE.]
'That is all,' said Neville. He had grown very pale again, but his aunt
did not notice it.
Kathie leant over and felt at the bottom.
'It is soft down here,' she said. 'Is there nothing underneath, aunty?'
'There is a thin cushion. The baize is lined with cotton-wool,' Miss
Clotilda replied. 'Some of the trays are the same.'
But Kathie kept feeling about.
'Neville,' she whispered, 'try if you can't pull up one corner. It seems
loose. I'll keep aunty from looking.'
She turned to Miss Clotilda, who was already unwrapping some of the
papers, with some little question about their contents. Neville bent
down over the chest without speaking.
[Illustration]
Suddenly he gave a sort of smothered cry, and the little girls looking
round saw that he held something in his hand--two things indeed--two
packets, not very thick, but long and flat, both sealed and both
labelled in clear writing--the one 'Various papers, inventories, &c., to
be looked over by David and Clotilda Powys,' and the other--oh, the
other!
'My last Will and Testament.'
Neville could not speak. Kathie flew forward.
'Tell her!' he half whispered.
_How_ they told her they could not afterwards recollect. The wits and
perceptions are strangely sharpened on some occasions. I suspect very
little 'telling' was required, though of course when their aunt had
somewhat recovered from the first overwhelming surprise and joy, she
was deeply interested in the history of the sheet of paper, and touched
by the children's thought for her.
Some hours of suspense had still to be endured, for Miss Clotilda would
not open the precious packet except in presence of the lawyer, and
Neville was sent off at once to Boyneth to telegraph for him to Hafod,
and to beg him to come at once. He came that very afternoon, and then
indeed all doubts were set at rest. All proved to be as had been
expected, and as Mrs. Wynne had always led her relations to believe
would be the case. Everything was provided for, nobody was forgotten;
the legacy which Mr. Wynne-Carr had reason to look for was to be his, so
that no ill-feeling would be caused to any one.
'Yes, it is most fair and satisfactory in every particular,' said Mr.
Price, the lawyer, 'if only my respected friend, Mrs. Wynne, had been
less obstinate and eccentric in insisting on keeping the document in her
possession! What trouble it would have saved!'
'But,' said Kathie, whom even Mr. Pryce's presence did not overawe, 'I
don't think we should have cared about it at all as much as we do if we
had never known what it was to lose it;' and in this Miss Clotilda and
Neville, and Philippa, who seemed to have become quite one of them,
agreed, though as for Mr. Pryce's opinion I cannot take upon myself to
answer.
He was honestly delighted, however, and went off that evening laden with
directions of all kinds, among them a telegram to be despatched to India
at once, 'regardless of expense':--
'From Clotilda Powys, to Captain Powys, 200th regt.
'Will found. All right. Arrange to come home as soon as possible.'
Those, I think, were the words it contained.
'And oh, aunty,' said Kathie, dancing with delight, 'just _fancy_ what
papa and mamma will think when they read it. Phil, why don't you look
happy? What are you so grave about?'
The little girl blushed.
'I don't mean to be selfish,' she said, 'but--I would so like to go on
making my pincushion. You know I've only about ten days more to make it
in.'
'Of course you shall, my dear,' said Miss Clotilda. 'Selfish! No indeed,
that you are not. And but for you, I do not believe we should ever have
found the will at all.'
Philippa looked intensely pleased.
'I always had a feeling it was in the house,' she said. 'And then my
dream was very queer. But it wasn't much good, for it was such a
muddle.'
'Dreams generally are,' said Miss Clotilda. 'No, I wasn't thinking of
your dream. It was your wishing to make something for your mother in the
first place'--
'And our going to Dol-bach and seeing the pincushion there, and our
travelling with the farmer, and my seeing the old ones in the
cupboard--_that_ came of my not posting the letter to aunty, so that our
trunks hadn't come, and aunty had to open the cupboard to get out a
night-gown for me--and--and--oh, dear, how strange it seems! Really as
if it was a good thing I forgot to post the letter.'
Miss Clotilda could not help smiling.
'Don't let that encourage you to think carelessness of any kind "a good
thing," my dear Kathie,' she said, 'even though good does sometimes come
of ill.'
'And it was a _sort_ of carelessness that caused all the trouble, you
see. If the old lady--old Mrs. Wynne--had only looked at the paper
before she put it in the envelope, there wouldn't have been any, would
there?' said Philippa, in her little prim way.
'Poor Mrs. Wynne!' said Miss Clotilda. 'She would have been the last to
wish to cause any of us any trouble.'
'Well, all's well that ends well, aunty,' said Neville cheerily. 'We
have nothing but nice and jolly things to think of now. Do let us talk
about how soon papa and mamma can possibly get home.'
'All's well that ends well,' as Neville said, and what is more, when
'all is well,' there is very little to tell about it. Sooner almost than
could have been hoped for came a telegram in reply from Captain Powys,
announcing the date at which he and the children's mother and little
sister might be expected.
The leaves were still on the trees, and Ty-gwyn looking _almost_ as
pretty as in full summer when the travellers arrived to find Kathleen
still with her aunt, though poor little Philippa had had to go back to
school at the end of the holidays.
But she came to see her friends again before long, and this time for
more than a visit, for it had been arranged that during the three years
of her parents' absence she was to live with the Powyses altogether, and
share Kathie's lessons.
So Miss Clotilda's pleasant castles in the air came to be realized. I
doubt if any happier family was to be found _anywhere_ than the good
people, big and little, in the old white house near the sea, that
Christmas when Neville came home for his holidays, to find them all
there together.
And in one corner of the library, under a glass shade and on a little
stand all to itself, is a queer old-fashioned-looking sort of box,
covered in faded silk, and seemingly rather out of place among the
pretty things with which the room is adorned. But no one thinks it out
of place when its history is told, and it is known to be the old
pincushion, the _very_ identical old pincushion, which for so many years
had held the secret of the missing will!
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