career, Iâve never seen pink potsherds.â
âPotsherdsâ is pronounced âpot-shards,â and Tessa wanted to know what they were. Professor Mudd explained that the word means pieces of old potteryâamong the most common finds in archeology.
âOnly, these potsherds donât date from long ago,â I said. âThey date from more like ten oâclock this morning! I mean, this spot was just a hole in the dirt when we were out here before church.â
Tessa had been totally quiet, but now her detecting instincts kicked in. âHave you seen anyone suspicious out here today, Professor Mudd?â she wanted to know.
âSuspicious?â he repeated. âNo. Your friends Dalton and Zach came out to work this morning while you and your cousin were at church. And Mr. Golley brought a crew by to deal with the mole damage. But I must admit, I donât understand whatâs going on here. Why would anyone want to bury a smashed piggy bank?â
I had to be careful answering. I was still trying to protect my sister, after all. âI guess whoever took it in the first place was hiding the evidence,â I said, âonly he or she didnât count on Hooliganâs superior tracking skills.â
Hooligan always knows when heâs being praised. Now he woofed and raised his head so we could admire his profile. He would have looked pretty handsome except for the jelly bean stains on his muzzle. Where had those come from?
Meanwhile, Tessa was asking what we were supposed to do next.
âThank Professor Mudd and return the trowel,â I said. âBut after that, I have no idea. I am totally confused.â
âYouâre welcome,â Professor Mudd said as we headed back toward the canopy. âAnd as for what you need to do next, how about talking to Stephanie? I believe she has something to give you.â
We put the trowel away in the tool cupboard and found Stephanie working in one of the trenches on the far side of the canopy. She wavedââThere you are!ââand pulled a tiny box from her pocket. âThis is your find from the dig yesterday, Cameron.â
I felt a spark of excitement. Maybe it was gold, too?
Carefully, I removed the lid. Inside, resting on a bed of cotton, was a cup-shaped, rocklike something about two inches long and an inch wide. The caked-on dirt was gone, but it was still gray and grotty-looking.
I tried not to look disappointed. After all, Stephanie had gone to a lot of trouble to clean whatever it wasand put it in the box. âGreat!â I smiled and nodded. âSeriously.â
Stephanie giggled. âYou donât even know what it is.â
âOh . . . well, no, I donât. But itâs still great. Do
you
know what it is?â
Stephanie nodded. âI do. Itâs an oyster shell.â
Tessa shook her head. âCanât be. Weâre not at the beach.â
âIt didnât come from the beach, at least not directly,â Stephanie said. âIt came from the kitchen. Oysters were a common food in the early nineteenth century, much cheaper, compared to other things, than now. Who knows? Maybe this oyster was part of a dinner Dolley Madison served at the White House.â
âCool,â I said, and this time I meant it. Dolley Madison was the First Lady when the White House burned down. Sheâs famous for a lot of things, like helping save the famous painting of George Washington from the flames, having a pet parrot and being good at giving parties.
âWhat happens to the oyster shell now?â I asked.
âSignificant relics are kept by the university for future study,â Stephanie said. âBut oyster shells are pretty common in digs in this region. If you want to keep this one as a souvenir, Cameron, itâs all yours.â
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
YOU might not think so, but a girl can work up a big appetite tracking a piggy bank. So our