ed in the jewelcase?"

"Yes, Miss Jane."

"And it is not there?"

"It is not there. Miss Jane." Margaret spoke with a sort of solemn
intoning. She recognized what the situation implied, and she, who
fitted squarely and entirely into her humble state, was aghast before a
hitherto unimagined occurrence. She could not, even with the evidence
of her senses against a lady and her mistress's old friend, believe in
them. Had Jane told her firmly that she had not seen that comb in that
ash-blond hair she might have been hypnotized into agreement. But Jane
simply stared at her, and the Carew dignity was more shaken than she had
ever seen it.

"Bring the jewel-case here, Margaret," ordered Jane in a gasp.

Margaret brought the jewel-case, and everything was taken out; all the
compartments were opened, but the amethyst comb was not there. Jane
could not sleep that night. At dawn she herself doubted the evidence of
her senses. The jewel-case was thoroughly overlooked again, and still
Jane was incredulous that she would ever see her comb in Viola's hair
again. But that evening, although there were no guests except Harold
Lind, who dined at the house, Viola appeared in a pink-tinted gown, with
a knot of violets at her waist, and--she wore the amethyst comb. She
said not one word concerning it; nobody did. Harold Lind was in wild
spirits. The conviction grew upon Jane that the irresponsible, beautiful
youth was covertly amusing himself at her, at Viola's, at everybody's
expense. Perhaps he included himself. He talked incessantly, not in
reality brilliantly, but with an effect of sparkling effervescence which
was fairly dazzling. Viola's servants restrained with difficulty their
laughter at his sallies. Viola regarded Harold with ill-concealed
tenderness and admiration. She herself looked even younger than usual,
as if the innate youth in her leaped to meet this charming comrade.

Jane felt sickened by it all. She could not understand her friend. Not
for one minute did she dream that there could be any serious outcome of
the situation; that Viola, would marry this mad youth, who, she knew,
was making such covert fun at her expense; but she was bewildered and
indignant. She wished that she had not come. That evening when she went
to her room she directed Margaret to pack, as she intended to return
home the next day. Margaret began folding gowns with alacrity. She was
as conservative as her mistress and she severely disapproved of