The village was profoundly stirred by them.

Searching parties went up the road stirring its dust and groping in its grass and briers for the great prize which was supposed to be lying there.

It was said, however, that the quest had been unsuccessful.

So the lost pocketbook became a treasured mystery of the village and of all the hills and valleys toward Ballybeen--a topic of old wives and gabbing husbands at the fireside for unnumbered years.
By and by the fall term of school ended.

Uncle Peabody came down to get me the day before Christmas.