haven it was hard to imagine the rising value of curios once so plentiful.
Supper was a silent one. The aunts, I think, regretted the wasted fare-money more than the loss of the model. Jane was wondering whether she, in her brother's place, could have brought to bear any cross-questioning or torture upon the antique man which would have revealed the new owner of the Fortune of the Indies.
Jane, who had been quite composed over the news of the model's discovery, was seemingly most calm over the tidings of its second disappearance. But after supper she went and ensconced herself gloomily in the office, with her chin in her hands and her elbows planted belligerently on the old desk. In the darkness the smell of the musty old leather-bound log-books was somewhat consoling; but whether she cried or not I can't say, because no one was there to see. She was an Ingram, however, and I doubt it.
But if Mrs. Titcomb had had reason to be displeased over her pupil's behavior in school before, she now had twice as much cause. Jane's conduct was really unbearable—star-
