"Then let me inform you that you are going to tell it to no one else.

Here I stand, and here I remain until you choose to explain to me the reason of your loud bursts of uncontrollable grief. During the illness of its master I am the mistress here, and either you speak to me or you go home."

Mrs. Ricketts had by this time so far restrained her sobs as to be able to take a long and very acute glance at the lady in question. Doubtless she was face to face with the formidable Mrs. Cameron, that terrible personage who had got her Maggie dismissed, and who had locked up poor darling Miss Polly for days in her bedroom.

There was no one, perhaps, in the world whom Mrs. Ricketts more cordially disliked than this good lady, but all the same, it was now her policy to propitiate her. She smoothed, therefore, her brow, dried her eyes, and, with a profound courtesy, began her tale.

"Ef you please, ma'am, it's this way; it's my character that's at stake.

I always was, and always will be, honest of the honest. 'Ard I works, ma'am, and the bread of poverty I eats, but honest I am, and honest I brings up those fatherless lambs, my children."

Mrs. Cameron waved one of her fat hands impressively.

"Pardon me, my good woman. I am really not interested in your family.

Pray come to the point, and then go home."

"To the p'int, ma'am? Oh, yes, I'll come to the p'int. This is the p'int ef you please, ma'am," and she suddenly thrust, almost into Mrs.

Cameron's dazzled face, the splendid gleam and glitter of a large unset diamond. "This is the p'int, ma'am; this is what's to take my character away, and the bread out of the mouths of my innocent children."

Mrs. Cameron never considered herself a worldly woman. She was undoubtedly a very Christian-minded, charitable, good woman, but all the same, she loved fine houses and big dinners and rich apparel, and above all things she adored jewelry. Flowers--that is, natural flowers--had never yet drawn a smile out of her. She had never pined for them or valued them, but jewels, ah! they were worth possessing. She quite gasped now, as she realized the value of the gem which Mrs. Ricketts so unceremoniously thrust under her nose.

"A diamond! Good gracious! How did you come by it? A most valuable diamond of extraordinary size. Give it to me this moment, my good dear creature! and come into the drawing-room. You can step in by this open window. We won't be disturbed in here. I suppose you were weeping in that loud and violent manner at the thought of the grief of the person who had lost this treasure?"

"No, ma'am, I were a sobbing at the grief of her what _'ad_ it. Oh, my word! And the young lady said for sure as I'd get nine-and-fourpence halfpenny for it. No, ma'am, I won't go into the 'ouse, thank you. Oh, dear! oh, dear! the young lady did set store by it, and said for certain I'd get my nine-and-fourpence halfpenny back, but when I took the stone to the shop to-day, and asked the baker to give me some bread and let this go partly to pay the account, he stared at me and said as I wasn't honest, and he thrust it back in my hand. Oh, dearie me! oh, dearie me!

the foreign young lady shouldn't have done it!"

"_I_ am very sure that you're honest, my good creature! Now, do tell me about this stone. How did you come by it?"

"It was the young lady, ma'am; the young lady from Australia."

"Daisy Rymple, do you mean?"

"Miss Flower she called herself, ma'am. She come to me in sore plight late one evening, when we was all in bed, and 'Mrs. Ricketts,' said she, dear lamb, 'will you help me to go away to Mrs. Cameron, to Bath? I want the money to go third cla.s.s to Bath. Can you let me have nine shillings and fourpence halfpenny, Mrs. Ricketts? and I'll give you this for the money!' and she flashed that bit of a glittering stone right up into my eyes. My word, I thought as I was blinded by it. 'You'll get most like two pounds for it, Mrs. Ricketts,' she said, 'for my father told me it was worth a sight of money.' That's how I come by it, ma'am, and that's the way I was treated about it to-day."

Mrs. Cameron slowly drew out her purse.

"I will give you two sovereigns for the stone!" she said. "There, take them and go home, and say nothing about the money. It will be the worse for you if you do; now go quickly home."

Mrs. Ricketts' broad face was one glow of delight. She dropped another courtesy, and tried to articulate some words of thanks, but Mrs. Cameron had already disappeared into the drawing-room, where she now sat, holding the diamond in the palm of her open hand.

She knew enough about precious stones to guess at something of its probable value. The idea of in this way possessing herself of Flower's diamond never for a moment entered her head, but she was worldly-minded enough to wish that it could be her own, and she could not help owning to a feeling of satisfaction, even to a sense of compensation for the loss of Scorpion, while she held the beautiful glittering thing in her open palm.

Even Flower rose in her estimation when she found that she had possessed a gem so brilliant. A girl who could have such a treasure and so lightly part with it was undoubtedly a simpleton--but she was a simpleton who ought to be guarded and prized--the sort of young innocent who should be surrounded by protecting friends. Mrs. Cameron felt her interest in Flower growing and growing. Suppose she offered to release the Doctor of this wearisome burden. Suppose she undertook the care of Flower and her diamond herself.

No sooner did this thought occur to Mrs. Cameron, than she resolved to act upon it. Of course the Doctor would be delighted to part with Flower. She would see him on the subject at once.

She went slowly upstairs and knocked with a calm, steady hand at the door of the dressing-room which opened into Dr. Maybright's apartment.

No sound or reply of any kind came from within. She listened for a moment, then knocked again, then tried to turn the handle of the door.

It resisted her pressure, being locked from within.

Mrs. Cameron raised her voice. She was not a person who liked to be opposed, and that locked door, joined to that most exasperating silence, became more than trying. Surely the Doctor was not deaf as well as blind. Surely he must hear her loud demands, even though a dressing-room stood between his room and the suppliant without.

And surely the Doctor would have heard, for a more polite man never lived, were it not for that all mischievous and irrepressible Polly. But she, being left in charge, had set her sharp brains to work, and had devised a plan to outwit Mrs. Cameron. The dressing-room in question contained a double baize door. This door was seldom or never used, but it came in very conveniently now, for the furtherance of Polly's plan.

When it was shut, and thick curtains also drawn across, and when, in addition, the door leading into Dr. Maybright's room was securely fastened and curtained off, Polly felt sure that she and her father might pa.s.s their morning in delicious quietude. Not hearing Mrs.

Cameron, she argued with herself that no one _could_ possibly blame her for not letting her in. Therefore, in high good humor, this young lady sat down to read, work, and chatter gayly. As the Doctor listened, he said to himself that surely there never was in the world a sweeter or more agreeable companion than his Polly.

With all her precautions, however, as the hours flew by, sundry m.u.f.fled and distant sounds did penetrate to the sick chamber.

"What a peculiar noise!" remarked the Doctor.

"Can it be mice?" queried Polly's _most_ innocent voice.

More time pa.s.sed.

Suddenly the sharp and unmistakable sound of gravel being flung against the window forced the young lady to go to ascertain what was the matter.

On looking out, she saw what caused her to utter an amazed exclamation.

Mrs. Cameron, very red in the face, and holding the lost Scorpion in one encircling arm, while the other was thrown firmly round a most sulky-looking David; Firefly, pale and with traces of tears on her face; Flower, looking excited and eager--all stood under the window. This group were loud in demanding instant admission to the Doctor's room.

"What is it, what is it?" questioned the patient from the bed.

"Oh, you are _not_ strong enough to see them, father."

"To see whom?"

"Aunt Maria--Scorpion--the children."

"Yes, I am quite strong enough. Let them come up at once."

"But father!"

"But Polly! You don't suppose seriously that your Aunt Maria can disturb my equanimity?"

"Oh! She will worry you with so many tales."

"About my very naughty family?"

"Yes, yes; you had much better not see her."

"Because she wants me to get a chaperon for you?"

"Oh! yes--oh! don't see her."

"My dear, you can trust me; you happen to be _my_ children, not hers. I would rather have the matter out. I knew there was something wrong from the way little Fly kissed my hand this morning. Show the deputation outside the window into the audience chamber at once, Polly."

So admonished, the curtains had to be drawn back, the baize door reopened, and Polly--a most unwilling hostess--had to receive her guests. But no words can describe the babel of sounds which there and then filled the Doctor's room; no words can tell how patiently the blind man listened.

Aunt Maria had a good tale to tell, and it lost nothing in the telling.

The story of Scorpion's disappearance; of the wickedness of David and Fly; of the recovering of the little animal from the man who had bought it, through Flower's instrumentality; all this she told, following up with the full and particular history of the sale of a valuable diamond.

At last--at long last--the good lady stopped for want of breath.