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"He's just a week younger, Mrs. Johnson, and I wouldn't tie him for worlds, even if I married him," I said meekly. Somehow I like Mrs. Johnson enough to be meek with her, and it always brings her to a higher point of excitement. Patricia's eyes filled with the ready tears as she caught the look on Judith's thin face, raised in adoring admiration to the great Winged Victory that stood poised at the top of the wide flight of stone stairs, showing triumphant in the misty light that seems to fill all great indoor spaces. In the veranda all was cool and restful and pleasingly silent. Isabella, in her white dress, looked beautiful and pensive; while Dido, in a reddish-hued robe, with a crimson 'kerchief twisted round her stately head, gleamed in the semi-gloom like some gorgeous tropical bird astray in our northern climes. Both mistress and maid were silent..

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"God knows!" stammered Jen, turning his horrified gaze on the poor girl. He did not know what to do. Isabella was in a dangerous state of hysteria. She had on but a loose white dressing-gown, and her presence in the house at three o'clock in the morning was enough to overpower Jen's sense of the reasonable, independent of the crowning horror of the missing corpse. At this juncture the much-needed aid came from without. David Sarby rushed into the room. "Oh, on the night it was stolen, I was seated on the veranda after dinner, and I saw my mother come out with Dido. They did not know I was there, as I sat in the shade. I saw Dido speak to my mother and point toward your house. Then she waved her hands before my mother's face, whereupon my mother turned and walked swiftly past where I was seated. I saw her face; it was quite white, and her eyes were open and glassy. She--" "How about the heart?" he persisted, and I may have imagined the smile in his eyes, for his mouth was purely professional. Anyhow, I lowered my lashes down on to my cheeks and answered experimentally: Patricia's face grew wistful. "She went away when I was so little," she murmured absently. "Sometimes I do fancy that I can recall how she looked as she kissed me good-bye in the big station, but it must be only fancy—one doesn't remember much at two years old. I can see just how Judy looked though, when they brought her home after mother died, and I was only three and a half then.".