would not have been so
unkind as to leave such a thing unmarked. Look on the bottom, Margaret!"

Margaret looked, and there, to be sure, was a tolerably long
inscription, in minute script.

"Hold the light nearer, please; I can hardly read this, it is so fine.
Oh, listen to this, Hugh! 'For my worthy Friend and Host, Roger Montfort
Esquire, and his estimable Lady, in grateful Recollection of my
agreeable Stay beneath their hospitable Roof. From their obliged Friend
and Servant, G. Washington. 1776.'"

"That _is_ a treasure!" said Hugh, handling the bowl with reverent care.
"I knew that General Washington had spent some days at Fernley, but I
never heard of this relic of his stay. Margaret, this is really
extremely interesting. Go on, and open more of them. Perhaps we shall
find tokens of all the Continental Congress. I shall look for at least a
model of a kite in silver, with the compliments of B. Franklin. Suppose
we try this next. It looks very inviting."

He took down an oblong box of curious pattern, and opened it. "What
upon earth--Margaret, what are these? Grape-scissors? Asparagus-tongs?
They don't look like either."

"I should think not!" said Margaret, taking the object from his hand.
"Why, it is a pair of curling-tongs. What queer things! No inscription
on these; there isn't room for one. Here is a piece of paper in the box,
though."

She took up a yellowish scrap, and read: "'My niece Jemima's
curling-tongs, with which she, being impatient to make a Show above her
Sisters, did burn off one Side of her Hair. Preserved as a Warning to
young Women by me, Tabitha Montfort. 1803.' Poor Jemima! She was
punished enough, without being held up to posterity in this way."

"She was an extravagant young lady," said Hugh, "with her silver tongs;
I think it may have been good for her soul, if not her hair, to suffer
this infliction. Are you going to keep these out, Margaret, for use? I
do hope you will be more careful than Aunt Jemima was. Your hair--excuse
me!--looks as if you had not used the irons for some time."

Margaret laughed, and patted the smooth waves of her hair. "It _is_
some time!" she said. "Yours, on the other hand, Hugh, has more curl
than may be altogether natural. I may have suspected you of the tongs,
but at least I have had the charity to keep my suspicions to myself."

"You are extremely good, Miss Montfort. What have you got hold of now?"

"'Dear Johnny's Rattle!'" said Margaret, reading t