“‘_Of his bones are coral made_,’ and ‘_Those are pearls that were his eyes_,’ and ‘_something rich and strange_.’ Oh, Katy, what do you suppose Aunt Nan meant this time?” said Mary with eager eyes. [Illustration: “OH, KATY, WHAT DO YOU SUPPOSE AUNT NAN MEANT THIS TIME?”] At this point Caliban arched his back and yawned prodigiously, then jumped down on the floor and sat at Mary’s feet, switching his tail. “Hurry and look at the notes at the end of the book, Mary!” cried Katy, almost as much excited as her friend. “I did not know that poetry could be so interesting.” Mary turned hastily to the back of the book. In the margin beside the printed notes were penned several words; references to other plays which evidently Aunt Nan wanted Mary to look up. “Bother!” said Mary in disappointment; “it’s only more quotations. I don’t want to stop for _them_.” “You had better, Mary,” suggested Katy. “Perhaps if you do they will give you still another clue. See how queer Caliban looks!” The cat was looking up in Mary’s face expectantly; and when she stooped to pat him, he opened his mouth and gave a strange, soundless “Miaou!” “It looked as if he said ‘Yes!’ didn’t it, Katy?” said Mary. “Well, then, I suppose I had better do it. The first reference is to ‘As You Like It,’ Act II, Scene i.” Mary went to the Shakespeare shelf, found the volume quickly, and looked up the proper place. “Yes!” she exclaimed, “there is a line underscored here, too,--‘_Wears yet a precious jewel in his head_.’ What a queer saying, Katy! What do you suppose it means? And this is the next quotation, in the ‘Sonnets’--Number CXXXV, Line 1. Here it is! ‘_Whoever has her wish, you have your Will._’ Now, what connection can there be between those two things, Katy?” “I don’t know!” said Katy, disappointed. “Is that all, are you sure? It doesn’t seem to mean anything, does it?” “Wait a minute!” added Mary. “Here in the Sonnet-margin she has written, ‘_Will S.--Yours. Look!_’” “Look where?” wondered Katy. “What _Will S._ have you, Mary?” At the word “_Look!_” Mary had glanced up at the portrait of Aunt Nan, and it seemed to her as if the eyes in the picture were cast down on something below them. Mary’s own eyes followed the look, and fell on the bust of Shakespeare in the middle of the mantelshelf. “Does she mean--perhaps she does--that bust of Will Shakespeare?” said Mary. “It is mine now, of course. ‘_Whoever has her wish_’--‘_Wears yet a precious jewel in his head_’--‘_Something rich and strange_.’” “Oh, Mary! It all fits together!” cried Katy, clapping her hands. “Do have a look at that bust, dear! If it is your Will.” “That’s just what I will do!” cried Mary, running to the mantelpiece, with Katy close behind her, and Caliban following them both.