on the bag. A little more, a
very little more, and her work would be done. She would tie the bag
around Honey-Sweet's waist and then surely the troublesome jewels would
be safe. Suddenly there came a piercing scream from the bed beside hers.
Mademoiselle Duroc's door across the hall flew open, admitting a broad
stream of light.

"What is the matter?" demanded Mademoiselle. "Who screamed?"

For a moment no one spoke. Mademoiselle turned on the electric lights
and her sharp black eyes searched the room. Bebe and Annette, wakened by
the turmoil, sat up in bed, blinking at the light. Madge rolled over and
grunted. Elsie continued to snore serenely. But Amelia and Anne were
wide awake. Amelia was sitting bolt upright, staring about her. Anne had
not moved; she held the needle in her right hand, the unfinished bag in
her left; beside her on the pillow gleamed the jewels. Mademoiselle's
eyes took in every detail.

"I demand to know who screamed," she repeated.

Amelia spoke sheepishly. "I was so sound asleep," she said. "And then I
waked up. I can't help being 'fraid of ghosts and burglars and things.
I saw--it's Anne--but I didn't know. I just saw something between me and
the window, and the hand went up and down--up and down. It frightened
me. I screamed."

"It is the misfortune to be a so fearful coward," commented
Mademoiselle, dryly. "And you, Anne Lewis, you also are due to explain."

Anne sat pale and wordless.

"You will have the goodness to give me those things from your pillow
which belong not there," said Mademoiselle, taking possession of them.
"Now you will please to put on your slippers and your dressing-gown, and
we will have the interview in my room. This dormitory needs no more
disturbance. I commend you to sleep, young ladies. I suggest, Amelia,
that you cultivate repose and courage."

Anne entered Mademoiselle Duroc's room with one thought in her
bewildered brain. "I must not tell. I must not tell," she said over and
over to herself. She stood with downcast eyes before Mademoiselle Duroc
who examined the trinkets one after another.

"These rings are, I judge, of considerable value," she said. "This is an
exquisite little ruby. The locket is quaintly enamelled. The miniature
is of masterful workmanship; whose portrait is it?" she asked, raising
her eyes to Anne's frightened face.

Anne shook her head. Her voice failed her. And she did not know that the
stately old gentleman was her mother's grandf