FullReads

Then it was time for the Roman ruin, and our hearts beat high as we took our hats–it was exactly like Sunday–and joined the crowded procession of eager Antiquities. Many of them had umbrellas and overcoats, though the weather was fiery and without a cloud. That is the sort of people they were. The ladies all wore stiff bonnets, and no one took their gloves off, though, of course, it was quite in the country, and it is not wrong to take your gloves off there.

We had planned to be quite close when the digging went on; but Albert’s uncle made us a mystic sign and drew us apart.

Then he said: “The stalls and dress-circle are for the guests. The hosts and hostesses retire to the gallery, whence, I am credibly informed, an excellent view may be obtained.”

So we all went up on the Roman walls, and thus missed the cream of the lark; for we could not exactly see what was happening. But we saw that things were being taken from the ground as the men dug, and passed round for the Antiquities to look at. And we knew they must be our Roman remains: but the Antiquities did not seem to care for them much, though we heard sounds of pleased laughter. And at last Alice and I exchanged meaning glances when the spot was reached where we had put in the extras. Then the crowd closed up thick, and we heard excited talk and we knew we really had sold the Antiquities this time.

Presently the bonnets and coats began to spread out and trickle towards the house, and we were aware that all would soon be over. So we cut home the back way, just in time to hear the President saying to Albert’s uncle:

“A genuine find–most interesting. Oh, really, you ought to have one. Well, if you insist–“

And so, by slow and dull degrees, the thick sprinkling of Antiquities melted off the lawn; the party was over, and only the dirty teacups and plates, and the trampled grass and the pleasures of memory were left.

We had a very beautiful supper–out-of-doors, too–with jam sandwiches and cake and things that were over; and as we watched the setting monarch of the skies–I mean the sun–Alice said:

“Let’s tell.”

We let the Dentist tell, because it was he who hatched the lark, but we helped him a little in the narrating of the fell plot, because he has yet to learn how to tell a story straight from the beginning.

When he had done, and we had done, Albert’s uncle said, “Well, it amused you; and you’ll be glad to learn that it amused your friends the Antiquities.”

“Didn’t they think they were Roman?” Daisy said; “they did in The Daisy Chain.”

“Not in the least,” said Albert’s uncle; “but the Treasurer and Secretary were charmed by your ingenious preparations for their reception.”

“We didn’t want them to be disappointed,” said Dora.

“They weren’t,” said Albert’s uncle. “Steady on with those plums, H. O. A little way beyond the treasure you had prepared for them they found two specimens of real Roman pottery which sent every man-jack of them home thanking his stars he had been born a happy little Antiquary child.”

“Those were our jugs,” said Alice, “and we really have sold the Antiquities.” She unfolded the tale about our getting the jugs and burying them in the moonlight, and the mound; and the others listened with deeply respectful interest. “We really have done it this time, haven’t we?” she added in tones of well-deserved triumph.

But Oswald had noticed a queer look about Albert’s uncle from almost the beginning of Alice’s recital; and he now had the sensation of something being up, which has on other occasions frozen his noble blood. The silence of Albert’s uncle now froze it yet more Arcticly.