Quite calmly she tapped with her fingers upon a panel in one end of the old desk. In a moment the panel dropped down, leaving in view a very narrow depository for papers. It was crammed with documents of several different kinds. Mrs. Treble sprang forward, with a cry. But Aunt Sarah got in front of her. She seized her skirts with both hands and advanced upon the lady from Ypsilanti with belligerence. “Shoo!” said Aunt Sarah. “Shoo!” As Mrs. Treble retreated, Aunt Sarah advanced, and, as though she were “shooing” a refractory chicken, she drove the lady from Ypsilanti out of the garret and closed the door firmly in her face. CHAPTER XXV LAYING THE GHOST Mr. Howbridge came by request to the Corner House the next morning. Ruth had slept all night with the papers found in the old secretary under her pillow. Mr. Howbridge came into the dining-room where the four Corner House girls were assembled, smiling and evidently in right good humor. “I understand you have made a wonderful discovery, Miss Kenway?” he said. “It was Aunt Sarah,” said Agnes, excitedly. “_She_ knew where the papers were.” “Indeed?” said the lawyer, interested. “We have found some of Uncle Peter’s papers, that is sure,” said Ruth. “And among them is one that I think must be the will you spoke of.” “Good! we shall hope it is the paper we have been looking for,” said Mr. Howbridge, accepting the packet Ruth handed him. “And _I_ have made a discovery, too.” “What is that, sir?” asked Ruth, politely. “It refers to Mrs. Treble’s claim to the estate of Mr. Peter Stower.” “If little Lillie bears any relationship to Uncle Peter, she must have her just share of the estate. We could agree to nothing else,” Ruth hastened to say. “Oh, Ruth!” exclaimed Agnes. Mr. Howbridge adjusted his glasses and looked at Ruth quizzically. “Miss Kenway,” he said, “you are a remarkable girl. Lillie Treble is the daughter of John Augustus Treble, without a doubt. _His_ mother went west from Milton, years ago, as is claimed. But she was _not_ Peter Stower’s sister.” “Oh, goody!” ejaculated Agnes, clapping her hands. “Who was she?” asked Ruth. Mr. Howbridge laughed softly. “She was the sister of a man named Peter _Stover_. The names are similar, but there is a difference of one letter—and many other differences, it seems. Peter Stover was a poor man all his days. He was an ‘odd job’ man most of his life, working about the farms on the outskirts of Milton, until he grew infirm. He died last winter at the poorfarm. “Mrs. Bean, even, remembers the name right now. These Trebles evidently heard of the wealth of your Uncle Peter, and thought he was _their_ Uncle Peter. The names were so much alike, you see.” “Then—then Mrs. Treble and Lillie have no claim upon Uncle Peter’s estate at all?” asked Ruth. “No more than the Man in the Moon,” said Mr. Howbridge, still smiling. “And you know _he_ isn’t any relation,” whispered Tess, to Dot, with great importance.