Penelope and the Others Part 4

He scooped up handful after handful, and David, sitting on his heels, watched the operations with deep solemnity. He could see a bit of this mysterious object now, and presently he remarked:

"I believe it's only a bit of broken china."

"Nonsense!" said Ambrose hoa.r.s.ely. His face was scarlet; he could hardly speak. Ghosts, robbers, and all other terrors forgotten, his whole soul was bent on unearthing this long-dreamed-of treasure.

"I can feel it," he said at last. "I can get my fingers round it. But it sticks fast."

"Take my knife," said David, producing a stout weapon from his pocket.

Ambrose gently eased away the earth round the unknown object. Trembling with triumph he extracted it from its bed and raised it on high:

"Broken china indeed!" he exclaimed scornfully.

It was a small earthenware crock of quaint shape with two very tiny handles or ears, and so incrusted with mould that only here and there you could see that it was of a deep-red colour. The top was covered by a lid.

Ambrose laid it on the gra.s.s between himself and David, and both the boys surveyed it with awe. They had really made a discovery in Rumborough Camp!

"Do you suppose it's Roman?" said David at last, drawing a long breath and speaking very softly.

"What else should it be?" said Ambrose. He sc.r.a.ped away some of the earth clinging to the jar, touching it reverently as though it were a sacred object. "It's just as Roman as it can be. Look at the shape!"

"It's something like the pot Miss Unity sent us the honey in last summer," said David, with his eyes fixed on the crock.

"Nonsense!" said Ambrose sharply. "I tell you it's an antique. Why, I saw rows and rows like it in the museum at Nearminster. How stupid you are!" He spoke with some heat. David, on his side, did not like to be treated with scorn, which he felt he had not deserved.

"_I_ found it," he said quietly, "_I_ was digging."

"I got it out," said Ambrose, still bending over the treasure.

"You'd have given up digging without me," persisted David. "It's just as much mine as yours."

"Well, anyhow, we settled to go halves in all we found," said Ambrose, "and you wouldn't have known it was valuable without me. A honey-pot indeed!"

He laughed jeeringly.

David was becoming more and more hurt in his mind. He sat looking sulkily at the antique, and when Ambrose laughed he had half a mind to take up his spade and smash it. Instead of this he suddenly put out his hand, took off the lid, and felt inside it. His fingers touched something cold.

"There's money in it!" he exclaimed. "Oh, Ambrose, look!"

On his outstretched palm there glittered three bright golden pieces.

"Coins?" said Ambrose, looking impressively at his brother.

He took one in his hand and examined it carefully, turning it over and over. There was a head on it, and some queer figures he could not understand, but he knew they were numbers.

"I told you it was Roman," he said; "here's a date in Roman figures."

"What is it?" asked David.

Unfortunately Ambrose could not tell. There was a v and an x, and a great many straight strokes, but he had no idea what they represented.

He sat, puzzling over it with a deep frown.

"They look just like sovereigns, don't they?" said the matter-of-fact David; "and I thought old coins were never bright. They're generally all green and brown and ugly."

"Well," said Ambrose, putting the pieces of money back into the crock; "we've got some splendid things for the museum at last. Aren't you glad we came?"

David had not quite recovered his temper. He felt that it ought to be more thoroughly understood that it was he who had made both the discoveries; then he should be satisfied. But he could not bear Ambrose to take this tone of superiority. As they picked up their tools and prepared to start homewards he said, "I should think you're glad I came, because I found the pot, and the money too."

"You ought to say 'coins,' not 'money,'" said Ambrose loftily.

It is sad to record that, before they were half-way home, the partners had fallen into open dispute over their booty. David wished to carry it; Ambrose refused; wrangling followed for the rest of the way, and when they stole guiltily in at the vicarage gate David was in tears, and Ambrose flushed and angry. No one was in the garden to notice their return, and, having replaced the tools, the crock was carried upstairs hidden in the breast of Ambrose's tunic. In the pa.s.sage they met Nurse.

"You've been out early, Master Ambrose," was all she said, and pa.s.sed on, unsuspicious.

So far the adventure had been attended with golden success at every step, yet, strange to say, it had not brought much pleasure with it.

There was the crock of gold certainly in the museum upstairs; but there was also a load on the boys' minds which hindered all enjoyment of it.

How could they display it to their mother when it was the price of disobedience?

CHAPTER THREE.

CHEDDINGTON FAIR.

Meanwhile Pennie's plan did not make much progress. The china-house on the school-room mantel-piece stood ready for contributions, with the slit in its roof and the label on its front door; it looked very well outside, but she feared that it was poorly furnished within, though she dropped all her own money into it with great regularity. This fear became certainty soon, for d.i.c.kie came to her one day with a penny clasped in her fat hand, and said:

"d.i.c.kie will put it into the house."

Pennie hesitated, for she knew it was the price of real hard work.

"Does d.i.c.kie really want to give it?" she asked.

d.i.c.kie nodded, gazing up at the money-box with large solemn eyes.

"You're sure you wouldn't rather buy hard-bake?" persisted Pennie.

d.i.c.kie was quite sure. Her mind was bent on dropping the penny into the slit. When, however, the china-house was lifted down, and she saw her money disappear through the roof for ever, she burst into sobs and tears, and refused comfort till the box was opened and the money returned. In this way Pennie became aware of the very low state of the funds; there was indeed hardly anything beside her own contributions, and at this rate Miss Unity would never get her new mandarin. So far her plan had failed.

"If only I could earn some money!" she said to Nancy.

"P'r'aps father will want some sermons copied when he comes back,"

suggested Nancy, "or mother may want some dusters hemmed."

"I should love to do the sermons," said Pennie; "but, oh," with a face of disgust, "how I do hate needlework!"

"Well," said Nancy composedly, "if people want to be paid they've got to work, whether they like it or not."

"But there's nice work and nasty work," said Pennie; "now, to write books--that must be splendid!"