The Purple Flame Part 25

"But what's this?" she held up before Patsy's astonished eyes a green bowl which gleamed in the light like a crystal.

"Why!" exclaimed Patsy, as she saw her cousin unpack another and another and yet another, "he has thought your old dishes were useless and has sent you some of his exquisite gla.s.sware instead."

"How strange!" murmured Marian, ready to cry with disappointment. She had so hoped to surprise Mr. Cole, the Curator of the Museum, with rare pieces of ancient pottery such as had never before been brought from the Arctic; and here were only four pieces of gla.s.sware. How they had ever come to be here, she could not guess; but here they were.

"Look!" cried Patsy, "What a strange appearance they have when you hold them to the light! And see, two of them are blue and two are a tawny green, like huge cat's eyes."

"Wait!" said Marian, "here is a note from our aged friend."

She unfolded it and read it aloud:

"Please pardon an old man's fancy. I could not resist the temptation of polishing these up a bit. The very sight of them makes me envious. They are indeed a rare find. I have a guess as to what they are made of, but your friend the Curator will know."

"So," exclaimed Patsy, "they are the very dishes you found in the cave!"

"How very, very strange! We must have Mr. Cole come over at once," said Marian, half beside herself with curiosity.

She raced to the telephone and a moment later had the Curator on the wire. If you have read our other book, "The Cruise of the O'Moo" you will remember that Marian, with her two friends, Lucile and Florence had once made a rare find for the Museum, so you will not wonder that so great a man should hurry right over in answer to their call.

When he arrived, Marian placed one of the bowls in his hand with the single comment: "From a cave in a mountain in Alaska."

For three minutes he turned the bowl about before the light.

"What do you want me to tell you about it?" There was a strange light in his eye.

"Almost everything!" exclaimed Marian. "What it's made of, who made it, how long ago, how-"

"Wait a bit. Not so fast!" the Curator held up a hand for silence.

"You should know what it's made of," he smiled. "What was the Blue G.o.d made of?"

"Jade."

"And this."

"Is that jade, too?"

"Blue and green jade."

"Then-then the bowls should be valuable."

"Quite decidedly. As for your other questions, much more information is needed before we can know who made them and when. So far as I know, nothing of this kind has ever before been discovered. Were there any other pieces?"

Marian held out a handful of ivory pieces.

For ten minutes there was silence in the room, save for the click of specimens as the Curator turned them over. Then, turning suddenly, Mr.

Cole put out his hands to the girls.

"I want to congratulate you," he said, his eyes gleaming, "upon your good fortune in discovering the finest collection of specimens ever brought from Alaska. From its discoloration this ivory should be at least five hundred years old. The bowls are doubtless of the same period. That makes them priceless."

On hearing these words Marian's joy knew no bounds. As for Patsy, her unselfish pleasure in the success of her cousin was quite as great as if it had been she who had made the find.

It was arranged that Mr. Cole should take charge of the specimens, and should advise Marian in regard to their disposal.

Marian's dream came true. She and her father secured the bungalow, rose bush and all, and owned it free from debt. There was money enough left for her education. As for Patsy, she was glad enough to hurry back to rejoin her cla.s.smates in Louisville, Kentucky.

An unfortunate part of having plenty of money is that it is likely to shut out from one's life the thrills that come with a struggle for an existence. For the time being Marian's life lost most of its thrills.

Not so, however, with her friend, Lucille Tucker. You will remember her from reading "The Blue Envelope," "The Cruise of the O'Moo" and "The Secret Mark." Life for her continued to have thrills a-plenty. Our next book, "The Crimson Thread," will have to do with the adventures which came to her during a Christmas vacation. If you think that two weeks'

time can contain but few adventures, this book will prove that you are mistaken.