"It seems so."

"Who were they?"

Alison and Dorcas exchanged glances. Dorcas nodded slightly to Alison which meant: Tell her all.

"You were unharmed."

"And my parents killed?"

Alison nodded.

"But who were they?"

"They . . . they must have been killed outright. No one came forward to say who you were."

"Then I might be anybody!" I cried.

"So," went on Dorcas, "as we had lost a sister we adopted you."

"What would have happened to me if you hadn't?"

"Someone else would have done so perhaps."

I looked from one to the other and thought of all the kindness I had had from them and how I had plagued them —talking too much and too loudly, bringing mud into the house, breaking their prized crockery; and I ran to them and put my arms about them so that the three of us were in a huddle.

"Judith! Judith!" said Dorcas smiling, and the tears— which always came rather readily to her—glistened in her eyes.

Alison said: "You were a comfort to us. We needed comfort when Lavinia was gone."

"Well," I said, "it's nothing to cry about, is it? Perhaps I'm the long-lost heiress to a great estate. My parents have been searching high and low for me . . ."

Alison and Dorcas were smiling again. I had further food for my flights of fancy. "It's better than being a distant cousin anyway," I said. "But I do wonder who I was."

"It is clear that your parents were killed outright. It was such a ... violent disaster that we heard many people were unrecognizable. Papa went and identified poor Lavinia. He came back so upset."

"Why did you tell me that I came from distant cousins?"

"We thought it better, Judith. We thought you'd be happier believing yourself related to us."

"You're thinking I was unclaimed . . . unwanted, and that might have upset me and thrown a shadow over my childhood."

"There could have been so many explanations. Perhaps you only had your parents and no other relations. We thought that very likely."

"An orphan born of two orphans."

"That seems possible."

"Or perhaps your parents had just come to England."

"A foreigner. Perhaps I'm French, or Spanish. I am rather dark. My hair looks quite black by candlelight. My eyes are much lighter though, just ordinary brown. I do look rather like a Spaniard. But then lots of Cornish people do. That's because the Spaniards were wrecked along our coasts when we destroyed the Armada."

"Well, all ended well. You came to be as our very own and I can never tell you what a joy that has been for us."

"I don't know why you're looking so glum. It's rather exciting I think, not to know who you are. Just think what you might discover! I might have a sister or brother somewhere. Or grandparents. Perhaps they'll come and claim me and take me back to Spain. Senorita Judith. It sounds rather good. Mademoiselle Judith de . . . de Something. Just imagine going to see my long-lost family in their wonderful old chateau."

"Oh Judith, you romance about everything," said Dorcas.

"I'm glad she's taken it like this," added Alison.

"What other way should I take it? I never did like those distant cousins anyway."

"So you don't feel that you were . . . deserted . . . unwanted . . . unclaimed?"

"Of course not. They didn't know that my parents had been killed. Nobody told them and as they were in a foreign country they weren't missed. They just thought they had slipped out of their lives. As for the little baby, me, well they often dream of me. 'I wonder what the child is like,' they say. 'She will be fourteen today. Dear little Judith.' But I suppose you named me that."

"You were christened by Papa soon after we brought you to the rectory."

"Well," I said, "it's all very exciting. A nice birthday surprise. Look at this. I found it. I think when it's cleaned up it will be rather unusual."

"What is it?"

"I've no idea. What would you say, Dorcas? There are scratchings on it. Look."

"Where did you find it?"

"In Josiah Polgrey's grave. Mr. Pegger was digging it and I had a go, and lo and behold my spade struck this. I shall clean it up and then see what I shall use it for. It's a sort of birthday present from Josiah Polgrey."

"What an ideal I've seen something like this before," continued Alison. "I think it may have some significance."

"What do you mean, Alison? Significance?'

"Sir Ralph would know."

Dorcas and Alison exchanged looks. Alison said, speaking rather slowly: "I think, Judith, that you should take it along to Keverall Court and ask if you may show it to Sir Ralph."

"Whatever for?"

"Because he's interested in this sort of thing."

"Things that are dug up you mean?"

"Certain things. Of course this may be just nothing . . . but there is something about it. I think it may be very old indeed and you have stumbled on something important."

I was excited. It was true there was talk of digging up Carter's Meadow. How interesting if I had been the first to find something!

"I'll take it right away," I said.

"I should wash first, change your dress and comb your hair."

I smiled at them. I loved them very much; they were so normal. It was my birthday; they had just told me that I had been unclaimed, my parents had been killed and I might be just anybody; I may have stumbled on something important from centuries ago and they were worried about my changing my dress and making myself presentable to see Sir Ralph!

Under the portcullis, into the courtyard, sniffing the stables and touching the mounting block for luck; and then into the great baronial hall. The heavy iron-studded door creaked as I pushed it open. How silent it seemed! I stood there for a second or so looking at the two suits of armor on either side of the wide staircase and the weapons on the walls; on the refectory table were pewter utensils, and there was a great bowl of flowers too.

I wondered what Hadrian and Theodosia were doing and what fun I would have tomorrow when I told them what I had found. I had already magnified it into something priceless. The greatest archaeologists in the world were shaking me by the hand. "We are so grateful to you, Judith. We have been digging for years and never have we found anything quite so wonderful as this."

I heard the scraping of a chair behind me. I had not noticed Derwent, the footman, dozing in a chair.

"Oh, it's you," he said.

"I want to see Sir Ralph immediately. It is a matter of the utmost importance."

He looked at me superciliously. "Now, Miss. This is another of your tricks, I know."

"It's no trick. I have found something which is of great value. My aunts"—I called Dorcas and Alison aunts; it simplified the relationship—"said I was to bring it to Sir Ralph without delay and woe betide anyone who tries to keep this from him."

I hugged the piece of metal against me and faced him squarely.

"He's taking tea with her ladyship."

"Go and tell him I am here," I said imperiously.

Because there had been some talk about Carter's Meadow, and Sir Ralph's interest in what could be dug out of the earth was well known, I eventually prevailed on Derwent to go and tell Sir Ralph that I had found something which my aunts thought might be of interest. Consequently within five minutes I was in the library, that fascinating room full of Sir Ralph's collection of exotic pieces.

I laid the metal on the table, and from that moment I knew that I had made an impression.

"Good God," said Sir Ralph; he used oaths of which, I reflected, Dorcas, Alison, and the Reverend James would not have approved, "where did you find this?"

I told him that it was in Josiah Polgrey's grave.

His bushy eyebrows were lifted. "What were you doing there?"

"Helping to dig it."

He had two kinds of laughter—one a wild sort of roar and the other inward when his chin shook and I think that was when he was most amused. He was amused in that way now and pleased. He spoke jerkily always as though he were in too much of a hurry to complete his sentences.

"H'm," he said. "Graveyard, eh?"

"Yes. It's important, isn't it?"

"Bronze," he said. "Looks prehistoric to me."

"That's very interesting I believe."

"Good girl!" he said. "If you find anything more, bring it to me."

He nodded in a way which I realized meant dismissal, but I had no intention of being dismissed like that.

I said: "You want me to leave you my er . . . bronze?"

He narrowed his eyes and his jaw wagged slightly. "Yours!" he bellowed. "It's not yours."

"I found it."

"Findings—keepings, eh? No, not with this sort of thing, my girl. This belongs to the nation."

"That's very strange."

"Number of things you'll find strange before you're much older."

"Is it of interest to archaeologists?"

"What do you know of archaeologists?"

"I know they dig and find things. They find all sorts of wonderful things. Roman baths and lovely tiles and things like that."

"You don't fancy yourself as an archaeologist because you found this, do you?"

"It's doing the same as they do."

"And that's what you'd like to do, is it?"

"Yes, I would. I know I'd be good at it. I'd find wonderful things that people didn't know were there in the earth."

He laughed then—the wild roar. "You fancy archaeologists are constantly finding jewels and Roman villas. You've got a lot to learn. Greater part of the time is spent digging looking for tilings of little value—things like this—the sort of things that have been found times out of number. That's what the majority of them do."