Part 9 (1/2)

”A what?”

”A cestificut--those kind of papers we found in the cave.”

”Oh, a certificate. Why Chicken Little a certificate--I don't know whether I can make you understand. There are several kind of certificates, but those were bank certificates.”

Chicken Little looked decidedly puzzled.

”Those pieces of paper showed that Alice's father once owned part of the National Bank here.”

”Doesn't he own it now?”

”Mr. Fletcher is dead, as you know, and the question is whether they belong to Alice as her father's heir. That is what we were talking about last night. But don't bother your small head about such things.”

Jane combed away industriously for several minutes giving him sundry pats and smoothing his forehead deftly.

”Alice says if they was really hers she could sell them and go to school and be like other people. I think Alice is like other people now--don't you?”

”Alice--like other people?” Dr. Morton had been lost in the depths of his newspaper. ”Alice is all right--a very worthy girl--but I doubt if she has any more chance of getting hold of that bank stock than the man in the moon. The papers were evidently stolen from Ga.s.sett's house along with the silver. It does look queer that they are still in Donald Fletcher's name, but people are mighty careless sometimes about business affairs--though it isn't like Ga.s.sett--he looks out for his own pretty carefully.”

”Is there anything you could do about it, Father?” asked Mrs. Morton who had come in and overheard this last remark. ”Alice seems very much wrought up and I promised her I would speak to you.”

”Why, I told her last night if I were in her place I'd just hold on to the papers and see if Ga.s.sett inquires for them and if he does, make him prove his right to them. It's up to him to show they are his.”

”Are they very valuable?”

”Yes, they are worth about five thousand dollars. It would be a windfall for Alice, all right.”

Mrs. Morton considered.

”Well, I don't know what a girl in her position would do with that much money if she had it.” Mrs. Morton was English and very firm in the belief that cla.s.s distinctions were a part of the Divine plan.

”Chicken Little here says she'd go to school,” Dr. Morton replied.

”Go to school! Why, Alice is twenty. Well, I think she'd better be content in the station to which the Lord has called her, myself,” said Mrs. Morton dismissing the subject easily.

Chicken Little had been listening to her elders with the liveliest interest. She could not quite understand it all but she had done her best. Hurt by her mother's indifferent tone, she burst out indignantly:

”The Lord didn't put Alice in any station--she hasn't been on a train since her mother died. She told me so and she wants to go to school just awful.”

”That will do, Jane; you don't know what you are talking about. I didn't mean a railroad station--I meant that if the Lord intended Alice to be a servant she should try to be contented.” Mrs. Morton spoke severely, pursing her lips up tight in a little way she had when annoyed.

But Jane was not to be suppressed.

”Yes, but it wasn't the Lord--it was Mr. Ga.s.sett's stealing their money.

Alice said it would make her mother cry right up in Heaven if she knew she was a hired girl. And I just know the Lord wouldn't do such a thing!”

”Steady, steady--don't get so excited, Chicken Little Jane,” soothed her father, amused at the tempest. ”Alice has one staunch friend evidently.

Here are some peppermints--you can go and divide with Alice to even up for her hard luck. If we find anything can be done about that money, I'll promise to help her. Will that content you, little daughter?”

Jane gave her father a grateful hug and departed to give Alice a decidedly garbled account of what Dr. Morton was going to do.