Tom went rapidly through all his pockets; then searched the room, then the parlor; next he went into the servants’ quarters and, as he expected, found them empty. From there he went over the house, but he was the only person in it, and the windows and doors were all securely locked. Convinced of that fact, he returned to the dining-room, and dropped bewildered into the nearest chair. His eyes fell on the uptilted cardboard box; there was even a slight impress left on the cotton where the coin had lain. “It’s gone!” exclaimed Tom aloud. “Really gone!” And his face was as blank as the opposite wall. CHAPTER VII TREASURE TROVE MINERVA glared at her image in the glass she was polishing with unusual diligence. “A cleanin’ an’ a cleanin’,” she exclaimed rebelliously. “Miss Rebekah don’t hardly ’low me time ter eat. Miss Marjorie didn’t never turn me inter a--a--flyin’ squadron”--Minerva hadn’t the faintest idea of the meaning of “flying squadron,” but she had picked up the words while waiting at table, and they sounded big enough to express her state of mind. “An’ I ain’t gwine ter church termorro’, nohow; las’ time I went, I come home an’ foun’ Miss Rebekah had done took all my china an’ glass off de pantry shelves, an’ I had ter put it back. What kind ob a Christian am she, anyhow? An’ when I’m down on my marrow bones a scrubbin’ de flo’, she flops down an’ keeps me a prayin’ fo’ five minutes. Lan’ sakes! dar’s de bell.” Hastily washing her hands and putting a white apron over her gingham one, she took her leisurely way to the front door. “Howdy, Marse Tom?” she exclaimed, showing all her ivories in an expansive smile on seeing the young officer standing in the vestibule. “De Madam will be mighty glad ter see yo’; step right inter de pawlor, I’ll go tell her yo’ am hyar.” Madame Yvonett found Tom walking restlessly up and down the small room when she entered a few minutes later. “I am pleased to see thee, Thomas,” she said, kissing him warmly. “Thee finds us rather topsy-turvey; this is cleaning day, but make thyself comfortable, I will sit here,” selecting her customary high back arm-chair, and producing her knitting. Tom established himself in one end of the rosewood sofa. “You must miss Marjorie awfully,” he said, inspecting the disarranged room with some wonder. “I do;” an involuntary sigh escaped Madame Yvonett. “Marjorie is young, but she understands the foibles of the old; she is a good child.” “I’m afraid Cousin Rebekah Graves is a bit too strenuous for you.” “Becky’s a trifle breezy, but anything’s better than a dead calm,” responded the Quakeress. “I am pleased that Marjorie is with the Fordyces; from what she says they must be charming people.” “They are,” declared Tom with such positiveness that a faint gleam of amusement lit his companion’s eyes. “Has Marjorie been in to see you today?” “No. She usually comes about this time on her return from market. Thee knows Mrs. Fordyce has turned the housekeeping over to her.”