"Friends," says he, "you all know what it was that we came down here for. It sounded foolish in New York, I acknowledge. Even in these surroundings, our enterprise may have appealed to some of you as a bit fantastic. But--Torchy, will you and Captain Killam bring those sacks?" Did we have 'em goggle-eyed? Say, when we dumped peck after peck of treasure and sand in the middle of the dinner table, and they got to pawin' over those weird old gold pieces and them samples of antique jewelry, it was a knockout for fair. "My word!" gasps J. Dudley. "You must feel like successful bank robbers." "Wonderful!" says Professor Barr, breathin' excited through his whiskers. "Why, some of these doubloons must have been coined during the reign of--" "Cornelia," breaks in Mrs. Mumford, "will you look at that old brooch. It's exquisite!" "Then it is yours as a souvenir of the trip," says Auntie--just like that. Next, Dudley and the Professor was asked to pick out a trinket. After which Mr. Ellins suggests that they divide the loot into five equal piles, and that we draw numbers to see who get which. Rupert wasn't strong for this free and casual way of splittin' the gate receipts, but he gives in. And when we each has our heap in front of us, with the sand scraped into the middle of the cloth, Old Hickory has the glasses filled once more, and starts up that pirate song of his: "Fifteen men on a dead man's chest-- Yo-ho-ho! and a bottle of rum." Right in the middle of the festivities, too, I takes my runnin' jump. Pickin' out a quaint old ring from my collection, I slips around beside Auntie and snuggles up confidential. "Well, Torchy," says she, "what is it?" "It's a big favor," says I. "See this? I want you to let me ask Vee to wear this for--for keeps. Can I?" "You--you mean--" she begins. "Uh-huh!" says I. "Until some time I can fit one on--well, one that the best man hands me. Come on, Auntie. Have a heart!" "You ridiculous boy!" says she. "If you must, though--" Say, I wasn't lookin' for that next move of hers. Think of it--Auntie! And she lands one right on my cheek, too. Everyone sees it. And, while I'm pinkin' up like a cranberry tart, Old Hickory sings out gleeful: "Tut, tut, Cornelia! What is this all about?" "I suppose," says Auntie, "that we must drink a toast to these youngsters of ours. That is, if Verona insists on being so foolish." "How about it, Vee?" I whispers, capturin' her left hand. "Do we let 'em drink?" "Silly!" says she. "The other finger." It's a bit public, I admit. Might as well have hired a hall. But they all seems to enjoy handin' us the jolly. Mr. Ellins makes a reg'lar speech, tellin' how fond he is of both of us and how this event pleases him more'n findin' the buried treasure. He winds up by askin' if everybody ain't about ready to start back for New York. The vote is unanimous. "Why not to-night?" asks J. Dudley. "To-night it shall be," says Old Hickory.