I'll tell you all about it then."

"Then? when?" asked Miss Drayton.

"Wh-when we get to Nantes--if ever we do go there," sobbed Anne.

"What nonsense is this, Anne?" inquired Miss Drayton. "Of course you
must explain the matter. Did you have these things on shipboard?"

"No, Miss Drayton."

"Where did you get them?"

The child did not answer.

"Whose are these things, Anne?" asked Miss Drayton, more sternly.

"Mine, mine, mine!" cried Anne. "Indeed, I'll tell you all about them
when we get to Nantes."

"Anne! What do you mean? Nantes! What has Nantes to do with it? You are
making my sister ill. See how pale she is!--Emily, dear Emily, don't
look so troubled. If only I had taken the matter up with you alone,
Mademoiselle Duroc!"

"I wish I could tell. I do wish I could," moaned Anne.

Entreaty and command were in vain.

"We shall have to let the matter rest for the present," said Miss
Drayton, at last. "It has overtaxed my sister's strength."

"Never mind me," protested Mrs. Patterson. "I am troubled only for the
child's sake. Oh, there must be some reasonable, right explanation of it
all!"

"I hope so," said Miss Drayton, hopelessly.

Mademoiselle Duroc had taken no part in the conversation with Anne. Now
she spoke: "Permit me to suggest that I prefer not to retain charge of a
pupil that has the secrets and mysteries. Will madame be so good--"

"No, no, Mademoiselle Duroc!" interrupted Miss Drayton. "You will--you
must--do us the favor to keep the child for the present, until my sister
is stronger--until we are able to make other arrangements."

There was a pause. Then Mademoiselle said inquiringly, "These jewels,
you will take charge of them?"

"No, oh, no!" said Miss Drayton, hastily. "Something may turn up--there
may be some claimant--but she insists they are hers.--Oh, dear! oh,
dear!--We will come back, Mademoiselle, when my sister is better and we
will discuss the matter again."

But week after week passed without bringing the promised visit. Instead,
Anne received kind but brief and worried notes from Miss Drayton,
enclosing the weekly pocket money. Now and then, there was a picture
post-card from Mrs. Patterson, with a loving message to Anne or two or
three lines to Honey-Sweet. The invalid was not improving. In fact, she
was growing worse. So the days wore on till February.

One crisp frosty morning found Mrs. Patterson lying on a couch beside
her window. In the foreground was a park-