It was not a yearly diary, but a goodsized blank book, in which the writer had jotted down her notes as she felt inclined; something was written every day, but it might be a short paragraph or several pages in length. "Here's something about us," and Bannard pointed to a page: The entry ran: "To-day I gave the box for Iris into Mr. Chapin's keeping. I shall never see it again. After I am gone, he will give it to I. and she can have it for what it is worth. I'll leave the F. pocket-book to Winston. The house must go to Lucille, but the young people won't mind that, as they will have enough." "That's all right, isn't it, Iris. Looks as if we were the principal heirs." "You can't tell, Win. She may have changed her mind a dozen times." "That's so. Let's see if there's anything about Mr. Bowen and his chalice." "Oh, she only thought of that last Sunday." "Don't be too sure. I shouldn't be surprised if the old chap got round her long ago, and had the matter all fixed up, and she pretended it was a new idea." "I can't think that." "You can't, eh? Well, listen here: "'Sometimes I think it would be a good deed to use half of the jewels for a gift to the church. If I should take the whole Anderson lot, there would be plenty left for W. and I.'" "What is the Anderson lot?" Iris asked. "A certain purchase that the old man got through a dealer or an agent, named Anderson. Aunt Ursula used to talk over these things with me and, all of a sudden she shut up on the subject and never mentioned jewels to me again." "She talked of them to me, sometimes, but never anything of definite importance. She spoke of the Baltimore emeralds, but I know nothing of them." "They're mentioned here; see: "'The Balto. emeralds will make a wonderful necklace for I. when she gets older. I hope I may live long enough to see the child decked out in them. I believe I'll tell her the jewels are all in the crypt.'" "In the crypt! Oh, Win, you know Mr. Browne said he thought they were buried! Isn't a crypt a burial place in a church?" "Yes; but a crypt may be anywhere. Any vault is a crypt, really." "But a bank vault wouldn't be called a crypt, would it?" "Not generally speaking, no. But, she probably changed the hiding place a dozen times since this was written." "Well, we'll know all when we hear the will. Isn't it a queer thing to put all of one's fortune in jewels?" "She didn't do it, her husband did. And everybody says he was a shrewd old chap. And, you know he made wonderful collections of coins and curios, and all sorts of things." "Yes, up in the attic is a big portfolio of steel engravings. I can't admire them much, but they're valuable, Auntie said once. It seems Uncle Pell was a perfect crank on engravings of all sorts." "I know. She gave me an intaglio topaz for a watch-fob. I didn't care much about it."