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 his stars he had been born a happy little Antiquary child."

"Those were our jugs," said Alice, "and we really have sold the Antiquities." She unfolded the tale about our getting the jugs and burying them in the moonlight, and the mound; and the others listened with deeply respectful interest. "We really have done it this time, haven't we?" she added in tones of well-deserved triumph.

But Oswald had noticed a queer look about Albert's uncle from almost the beginning of Alice's recital; and he now had the sensation of something being up, which has on other occasions frozen his noble blood. The silence of Albert's uncle now froze it yet more Arcticly.

"Haven't we?" repeated Alice, unconscious of what her sensitive brother's delicate feelings had already got hold of. "We have done it this time, haven't we?"

"Since you ask me thus pointedly," answered Albert's uncle at last, "I cannot but confess that I think you have indeed done it. Those pots on the top of the library cupboard are Roman pottery. The amphoræ which you hid in the mound are probably—I can't say for certain, mind—priceless. They are the property of the owner of this house. You have taken them out and buried them.. The President of the Maidstone Antiquarian Society has taken them away in his bag. Now what are you going to do?"

Alice and I did not know what to say, or where to look. The others added to our pained