what was truly forgivable
triumph.

"This carved oak chimney-piece is, I have reason to believe, the
headboard of some magnificent, ancient bed."

"Patty Fairfield!" cried Sinclair, jumping up, and reaching her side with
two bounds. "You've struck it! What a girl you are!"

"Wait a minute," said Patty, pushing him back; "I'm entitled to a
hearing. Take your seat again, sir, until I unfold the rest of the tale."

Patty was fairly quivering with excitement. Her cheeks glowed, and her
eyes shone, and her voice trembled as she went on.

Mabel, with clasped hands, just sat and looked at her. The elder ladies
were plainly bewildered, and Bob was trying hard to sit still.

"I read in an old book," Patty went on, "how somebody else used a carved
headboard for a chimney-piece, and I wondered if this mightn't be one.
And it surely looks like it. And then I wondered if 'above the stair
across the hall' mightn't mean this platform across this hall. And I
think it does. But that's not all. My really important discovery is
this."

Patty's voice had sunk to a thrilling whisper, and she addressed herself
to Mrs. Cromarty, as she continued.

"I think the other rhyme, the one that says the fortune is concealed
'between the fir trees and the oak,' refers to this same place, and means
between the painting of fir trees, which hangs over the mantel, and--the
oak mantel itself!"

With a smiling bow, Patty stepped down from the platform, and taking a
seat by old Mrs. Cromarty, nestled in that lady's loving arms. The two
boys made a spring for the mantel, but paused simultaneously to grasp
both Patty's hands in theirs and nearly shake her arms off. Then they
left the heroine of the hour to Mabel and Mrs. Hartley and began to
investigate the chimney piece.

"'Between the fir trees and the oak'!" exclaimed Bob. "Great, isn't it!
And here for thirty-five years we Cromarty dubs have thought that meant
real trees! To think it took a Yankee to tell us! Oh, Patty, Patty, we'll
take down that historic painting and put up a tablet to the honour of
Saint Patricia. For you surely deserve canonisation!"

"'Between the bedhead and the wall,'" ruminated Sinclair. "Well, here
goes for finding an opening."

Clambering up on stools, both boys examined the place where the mantel
shelf touched the wall. The ornate carvings of the mantel left many
interstices where coins or notes might be dropped through, yet they were
by no means conspicuous enough