These are my jewels, Mary, since you have found them--my mere jewel stones. But by this time, as I hope, you will have learned the greater beauty of my other jewels--the real “Gems from Shakespeare.” You will know, if you have done as I wished, that books are the best treasure of all. And that in poetry--especially in Shakespeare’s poetry--are the most precious gems to be found in this world. These so-called _precious_ bits of stone and pearl have never been of any use to me. I have never worn them. Why I have not sold them long ago, I do not know. Perhaps because I wanted to play this one last joke with them, for somebody’s benefit. They have been waiting here in this secret place for years. Now I have played my last joke, and you shall do with the “Gems” whatever you please. I hope you will be a wise girl. N. C. “What do you suppose Aunt Nan meant by that last remark?” asked Mrs. Corliss wonderingly. “The pearls are far too splendid for our Mary ever to wear. I should hate to see her flaunting them, Owen.” “So should I!” said Dr. Corliss fervently. “They are grand enough for a princess to wear at a court ball. What do you say, Mary?” “Oh, they are very beautiful,” said Mary, “but I don’t want to wear them, any more than Aunt Nan did. Father, do you think it would be right to sell them? I’d like so much to have the money to help us all--and perhaps there would be enough so that I could go to college, too.” “That’s my daughter!” cried her father, hugging her proudly in his arms. “That is what I hoped you would say. I can see no possible reason why you should keep the jewels. Evidently Aunt Nan did not care for them herself, and you have no association with them except through her. They can do you no good, except in one way. So my girl will be able to go to college, after all, as well as my boy. I am so glad!” “Thanks to Aunt Nan--and to Shakespeare,” said Mary, patting the volume of “Hamlet” lovingly. “If Shakespeare hadn’t given the clue I might not have found the gems for ever and ever so long.” “You might never have found them, Mary!” cried John. “Ginger! how awful! They might have stayed here all your life; or some old bookseller might have got them when you began to fill up with new books in place of these old ones.” “Like Aladdin swapping off his old lamp for a new one,” smiled Dr. Corliss. “No,” said Mary, “that wouldn’t have happened. And I should have found them, anyway, sooner or later. For I shall never part with one of Aunt Nan’s books. And sooner or later I mean to dip into every one, and read it through, if I can. I guess Aunt Nan knew that.” She glanced gratefully at the portrait over the mantelpiece, which seemed to look very happy in the lamplight, while the box of gems stood open on the table. CHAPTER XII THE PARTY