a third of it's yours now, or will be when you come of age. Father left it that way in his will—to us three daughters share and share alike, and you'll have Faith's share. Poor Father! He was sure that we'd hear from Faith, and he thought he'd left us all quite well off. But we had to put a mortgage on the farm about ten years ago, and every year it's harder and harder to get along. Charity and I are too old—that's the truth. And some stock Father left us we traded off for some paying eight per cent, and that company failed."
"You see," explained Miss Charity in her gentle way, "we don't know anything about business. That man wasn't honest who sold us the stock, but Hope and I thought he couldn't cheat us—he was a friend of Father's."
"Well, don't let any one swindle you again," said Bob, a trifle excitedly. "You don't have to worry about interest and taxes, any more, Aunts. You have a fortune right here in your own dooryard; or if not exactly out by the pump, then very near it!"
The sisters looked bewildered.
"Yes, yes," insisted Betty, as they gazed at her to see if Bob were in earnest. "The farm is worth thousands of dollars."
"Oil!" exploded Bob. "You can lease or sell outright, and there isn't the slightest doubt that
