of your chair, so, to the room, she will not see you.—Is it you, dear little girl? Come in."
He met Rose at the door, and taking away the crutches, carried her to his table, where he sat down, lifting the child to his knee.
"And now what have you been doing?" he asked.
"I have been playing with Delia's beautiful ribbons."
"Not with the pretty box I gave you? Didn't you like it? What's that in your little hand?"
"My box. Feel it—all nice and furry and white. It's velvet, isn't it? And it opens and shuts with a snap. Inside it's all white, too—but not furry. It's satin, I think, inside. But I thought there were to be toys in it?"
"What was in it, dear little girl?"
"The ring—the beautiful ring."
"And where has the ring gone?"
"Delia gave me her ribbons to play with, and she took away my ring. She said it was only a play-ring. She said you wouldn't give me a real ring. You would, wouldn't you? She oughtn't to take my things. Sometimes I don't like Delia. Was it a play-ring?"
"No, dear little girl, it was not a play-ring. But what did Delia do with it?"
"I don't know. I was playing with the ribbons, and so I forgot. But she said she'd give it back to me very soon. She said she just borrowed it for a little while to have some fun with the old maid."
"The old maid?"
"That's what she often calls Catharine, because she scolds her sometimes. Why, there's my ring!"
"So it is. Right under that paper I just moved. You are sure it's the same?"
"Oh yes. Now I want to put it to bed and cover it up. I like to hear my box snap. Will you keep it for me, Mr. Courtney? Put it where Delia can't find it. I'll ask you for it when I want it again. But I wish it was toys. I thought you meant it was toys. Will you play now?"
"Look behind you—look in that big chair by the fire. How can I play? I have company."
Miss Ireland rose and stood by the table.
"I didn't see you, Kitty. Are you going to stay?"
"Yes, she is going to stay a little longer. Suppose we finish our play tomorrow afternoon. Will that do?"
"Yes. For maybe Delia won't lend me her ribbons to-morrow, and I've got them all spread out now."
"Well, go now and play with the ribbons, and come again to-morrow. Don't forget to come. Good night, dear little girl. Good night. You can take that little box from the table as you pass. Yes, that one has toys in it. Good night."
The door closed.
"Oh, Mr. Courtney! What can I say?"
"Nothing. What have you done—except what you always do—the brave, right thing? But perhaps you see now that it is hard to be serious with Delia. Scolding her seems only to lead her on to worse mischief, such as this trick she has played on you to-night. It was rather a neat one. Don't you think so?"
"No! But to do her justice, she did not think I would really speak to you. I took the ring from off her finger and warned her that I would; but I have so often warned her and done nothing, I saw she thought this time it would be the same."
"She must have had a beautiful time. I can imagine nothing more entirely delightful to Delia than the whole of this aifair. I confess I see the joke, if you do not. But she evidently did believe the ring was glass. A good imitation."
"I knew the value of the ring the moment I looked at it; the setting—everything proved it. I felt I must speak to you at once."
"Of course."
"But—oh, Mr. Courtney, I am so sorry for—for everything."
Courtney had opened the box and taken out the ring. He was standing with it in his hand, looking down at it.
"What am I to do with this?" he asked. "What does one do with—these? If it had come back to me at seventeen I should have flung it into the fire. After twenty-five one is less—what shall I call it?—less destructive. But I can't feel this belongs to me. It belongs to no one now, unless it be—"
