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"And so," concluded Elinor, "when I had just gotten ready to come out to see you, some more of them came over and looked at it. And one of them said, 'Dorset's right. It's a pace-maker all correct,' and then they brought some other men, and I left." "Mrs. Dallas?" cried David, starting from his seat. "Did she steal the devil-stick?" "What!" cried his guardian, rising. "Do you dare to sit there and tell me that you are a traitor, a coward, and an ungrateful man?".

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"Do you really want to go?" asked Patricia, beaming. "The modeling room's open, and you can always see the antique." "I don't think so," replied Etwald, dryly. "I saw her do it. So did David." And there I sat in my front room, being embraced in a perfume of everybody's lilacs and hawthorns and affectionate interest and moonlight, with a letter in my hand from the man whose two photographs and letters I used to keep locked up in my desk. Is it any wonder I tingled when he told me that he had never come back because he couldn't have me, and that now the minute he landed in England he was going to lay his heart at my feet? I added his colonial honours to his prostrate heart myself, and my own beat at the prospect. All the eight years faded away, and I was again back in the old garden down at Aunt Adeline's cottage saying good-bye, folded up in his arms. That's the way my memory put the scene to me, but the word "folded" made me remember that blue muslin dress again. I had promised to keep it and wear it for him when he came back—and I couldn't forget that the blue belt was just twenty-three inches and mine is—no, I won't write it. I had got that dress out of the old trunk not ten minutes after I had read the letter and measured it. "Well, sir." Battersea scratched his shock head. "She knows things as ain't good for 'er. 'Bout that devil-stick es you talks of.".