“Will ye hae to gang into mournin’s for the body that left it?” Jinnet asked Mrs Duffy. “I ken a puir weedow wumman that would come to the hoose to sew for ye.” “Ye’re aff it a’thegither,” said Duffy. “It’s naebody that left it to us--it’s a medallion. Whit I wanted to ask ye, Erchie, is this--whit’s a medallion?” “Jist a kind o’ a medal,” said Erchie. “My jove!” said Duffy, “the wife was richt efter a’. I thocht it was something for playin’ on, like a melodian. Weel, it doesna maitter, ye’ve heard o’ the hidden treasure the newspapers’s puttin’ here and there roond the country? I ken where yin o’ them’s hidden. At least I ken where there’s a medallion.” “Oh, hoo nice!” said Jinnet. “It’s awfu’ smert o’ ye, Mr Duffy. I was just readin’ aboot them, and was jist hopin’ some puir body wad get them.” “No’ that poor naither!” said Mrs Duffy, with a little warmth. “Na, na, I wasna sayin’----I didna mean ony hairm,” said poor Jinnet. “Streetch yer hand, and tak’ a bit cake. That’s a rale nice brooch ye hae gotten.” Erchie looked at Duffy dubiously. For a moment he feared the coalman might be trying on some elaborate new kind of joke, but the complacency of his face put it out of the question. “Then my advice to you, Duffy, if ye ken where the medallion is,” said Erchie, “is to gang and howk it up at yince, or somebody’ll be there afore ye. I warrant it’ll no’ get time to tak’ root if it’s within a penny ride on the Gleska skoosh cars. There’s thoosands o’ people oot wi’ lanterns at this very meenute scrapin’ dirt in the hunt for that medallion. Hoo do ye ken whaur it is if ye havena seen it?” “It’s there richt enough,” said Mrs Duffy; “it’s in the paper, and we’re gaun to gie up the ree; my mind’s made up on that. I hope ye’ll come and see us sometime in our new hoose--house.” “It says in the paper,” said Duffy, “that the medallion’s up a street that has a public-hoose at each end o’t, and a wee pawn in the middle, roond the corner o’ anither street, where ye can see twa laundries at yince, and a sign ower yin o’ them that puts ye in mind o’ the battle o’ Waterloo, then in a parteecular place twenty yairds to the richt o’ a pend-close wi’ a barrow in’t.” Erchie laughed. “Wi’ a barrow in’t?” said he. “They micht as weel hae said wi’ a polisman in’t; barrows is like bobbies--if ye think ye’ll get them where ye want them ye’re up a close yersel’. And whit’s the parteecular place, Duffy?” Duffy leaned forward and whispered mysteriously, “My coal-ree.” “But we’re gaun to gie’t up,” explained his wife. “Oh, ay, we’re gaun to give the ree up. Ye hae no idea whaur--where--I could get a smert wee lassie that would not eat awfu’ much, Mrs MacPherson?” “I measured it a’ aff,” Duffy went on. “It’s oor street richt enough; the pubs is there----” “-----I could bate ye they are,” said Erchie. “If they werena there it wad be a miracle.”