“Me and Caliban,” said John loyally; “don’t forget him.” And he told the others the whole story of his following the cat. “You blessed old Caliban!” cried Mary, catching up the great bundle of fur and hugging him tightly. “You shall have an extra saucer of milk for your supper, so you shall!” Caliban did not explain to her about the nest of fat mice which he had discovered in the attic. That was his share of the “treasure.” CHAPTER X THE PORTRAIT POINTS One winter afternoon some weeks after the discovery of the coral necklace and the pearl ring, Mary was in the library alone, reading “Hamlet.” It was the last play on the list which Aunt Nan had suggested, and Mary liked it best of all. Nothing further of a “mysterious” nature had happened in the library; but Mary had almost forgotten to think about anything of the kind. She was reading now for the pleasure of it. She had kindled a little fire in the fireplace, and the library was very cozy, full of flickering shadows and dancing lights, that played about the old volumes, and seemed every minute to change the expression on the bust of Shakespeare and on Aunt Nan’s picture above it. But Mary, cuddled up in the big armchair with Caliban in her lap and the little red book in her hand, was too much interested in the fate of poor Ophelia and the unlucky Prince to notice lights or shadows. She had come to the scene where Hamlet is talking sorrowfully to his mother in her chamber, and every word was wonderful. Suddenly she came upon a line underscored; the last part doubly underscored:-- “_Look here upon this picture_, THEN ON THIS.” Hamlet was pointing out to his mother the portraits of two kings, the good one who had been murdered, and his wicked brother who had killed him. The underscored line made Mary’s heart beat faster. She had learned to connect some pleasant surprise with Aunt Nan’s choice of quotations. In the margin opposite this line was penned an exclamation point--just that and nothing more. Eager as she was to go on with the story, and to find out what Hamlet had to say next, Mary knew that it was time to turn to the notes at the back of the book, to see if Aunt Nan meant anything in particular by that exclamation. She could not help feeling as if Aunt Nan herself had called out, “Stop! Look! Listen!”--just as the signs at the railway crossings do to absorbed travelers. Yes; there was something written in the notes, in a blank space at the end of a paragraph: “_Look at my portrait! Then turn to the play of Othello._--”