`` Did not my great-grand-uncle , Peter Goldthwaite , who died seventy years ago , and whose namesake I am , leave treasure enough to build twenty such ? '' `` I ca n't say but he did , Mr. Peter , '' said Tabitha , threading her needle . Tabitha well understood that Peter had reference to an immense hoard of the precious metals which was said to exist somewhere in the cellar or walls , or under the floors , or in some concealed closet or other out-of-the-way nook of the old house . This wealth , according to tradition , had been accumulated by a former Peter Goldthwaite whose character seems to have borne a remarkable similitude to that of the Peter of our story . Like him , he was a wild projector , seeking to heap up gold by the bushel and the cart-load instead of scraping it together coin by coin . Like Peter the second , too , his projects had almost invariably failed , and , but for the magnificent success of the final one , would have left him with hardly a coat and pair of breeches to his gaunt and grizzled person . Reports were various as to the nature of his fortunate speculation , one intimating that the ancient Peter had made the gold by alchemy ; another , that he had conjured it out of people 's pockets by the black art ; and a third -- still more unaccountable -- that the devil had given him free access to the old provincial treasury . It was affirmed , however , that some secret impediment had debarred him from the enjoyment of his riches , and that he had a motive for concealing them from his heir , or , at any rate , had died without disclosing the place of deposit . The present Peter 's father had faith enough in the story to cause the cellar to be dug over . Peter himself chose to consider the legend as an indisputable truth , and amid his many troubles had this one consolation -- that , should all other resources fail , he might build up his fortunes by tearing his house down . Yet , unless he felt a lurking distrust of the golden tale , it is difficult to account for his permitting the paternal roof to stand so long , since he had never yet seen the moment when his predecessor 's treasure would not have found plenty of room in his own strong-box . But now was the crisis . Should he delay the search a little longer , the house would pass from the lineal heir , and with it the vast heap of gold , to remain in its burial-place till the ruin of the aged walls should discover it to strangers of a future generation . `` Yes , '' cried Peter Goldthwaite , again ; `` to-morrow I will set about it . '' The deeper he looked at the matter , the more certain of success grew Peter . His spirits were naturally so elastic that even now , in the blasted autumn of his age , he could often compete with the springtime gayety of other people . Enlivened by his brightening prospects , he began to caper about the kitchen like a hobgoblin , with the queerest antics of his lean limbs and gesticulations of his starved features . Nay , in the exuberance of his feelings , he seized both of Tabitha 's hands and danced the old lady across the floor till the oddity of her rheumatic motions set him into a roar of laughter , which was echoed back from the rooms and chambers , as if Peter Goldthwaite were laughing in every one . Finally , he bounded upward , almost out of sight , into the smoke that clouded the roof of the kitchen , and , alighting safely on the floor again , endeavored to resume his customary gravity . `` To-morrow , at sunrise , '' he repeated , taking his lamp to retire to bed , `` I 'll see whether this treasure be hid in the wall of the garret . ''
`` And , as we 're out of wood , Mr. XXXXX , '' said Tabitha , puffing and panting with her late gymnastics , `` as fast as you tear the house down I 'll make a fire with the pieces . ''
Peter Tabitha garret gesticulations hoard nook oddity second strong-box third