gone all through the
bundles of papers by this time, arranged them according to their dates
of issue, and wrapped the different years' issues in strong paper.
Rebecca could not see for the life of her, she said, what Ruth was
about.

"Surely they can't be worth much as old paper, Ruthie. I know you are a
regular little business woman; but junk men aren't allowed on the
college grounds."

"Expressmen are, my dear," laughed Ruth.

"What do you mean? What _are_ you going to do with those papers?"

"You said you didn't care----"

"And I don't. They are yours to do with as you please," said the
generous Rebecca Frayne.

"To punish you," Ruth said seriously, "I ought really to take you at
your word," and she shook her head.

"What meanest thou, my fair young lady?" asked Rebecca, laughing.

"Read this," commanded Ruth, handing her, with the air of the stage hero
"producing the papers," one of the letters she had received. "Cast your
glance over this, Miss Frayne."

The other received the letter curiously, and read it with dawning
surprise. She read it twice and then gazed at Ruth with almost
speechless amazement.

"Well! what do you think of your Aunt Ruth _now_?" demanded the girl of
the Red Mill, laughing.

"It--it can't be _so_, Ruthie!" murmured Rebecca Frayne, the hand which
held the letter fairly shaking.

"It's just as _so_ as it can be," and Ruth continued to laugh.

The tears suddenly flooded into Rebecca's eyes. She could not turn
quickly enough to hide them from Ruth's keen vision. But all she said
was:

"Well, Ruthie! I congratulate you. Think of it! Two hundred dollars
offered for each set of those old papers. Well!"

"You see, it would scarcely have been wise to have built the fire with
them," Ruth said drily.

"I--I should say not. And--and they have lain in our attic for years."

"And you brought them to college as waste paper," Ruth added.

Rebecca was silent. Ruth, smiling roguishly, stole up behind her.
Suddenly she put both arms around Rebecca Frayne and hugged her tight.

"Becky! Don't you understand?" she cried.

"Understand what?" Rebecca asked gruffly, trying to dash away her few
tears.

"Why, honey, I did it for _you_. I believed the papers must be worth
something. I had heard of a set of New York illustrated papers for the
years of the Civil War selling for a big price. These, I believed, must
be even more interesting to collectors of such things.

"So I wrote to Mr. Ca