"The model of the Fortune of the Indies is in Boston!"
"Ned Myers saw it when he was visiting his uncle!"
"The name was on the gold scroll at the stern!"
"It's in a little old antique shop in the South End!"
"Will you let us go instanter to get it?"
"How much do you suppose they'll want for it?"
The aunts put their hands to their heads in protest, and into the midst of all this hurly-burly drifted Jane, swinging her best hat by its ribbon.
"Want for what?" she inquired.
So the jumbled tale had to be poured forth all over again, the poker lunging, at times, dangerously near Jane's nose. Considering that she was really the person most deeply interested, Jane kept remarkably calm. Her mouth grew rather straighter than ever, and she merely said:
"I knew it would turn up some day."
The aunts really had to agree that some one must go to Boston, that they might at least
