ll Calvin to take this to Mr. Dalton."

Mandy knew at once that something was wrong. But this was not a moment
for words. The Bannisters did not talk about things that troubled
them. They held their heads high. And Becky's was high at this
moment, and her eyes were blazing.

As she sat there, tense, Becky wondered what Dalton could have thought
of her. If she had not had a jewel in the world, she would not have
kept his sapphire. Didn't he know that?

But how could he know? To him it had been "a sweet dream--a rare old
tale," and she had thought him a Romeo ready to die for her sake, an
Aucassin--willing to brave Hell rather than give her up, a Lohengrin
sent from Heaven!

She shuddered and hid her face in her hands. At last she crept into
bed. Mandy, coming in to straighten the room, was told to lower the
curtains.

"My--my head aches, Mandy."

Mandy, wise old Mandy, knew of course that it was her heart. "You res'
an' sleep, honey," she said, and moved about quietly setting things in
order.

But Becky did not sleep. She lay wide awake, and tried to get the
thing straight in her mind. How had it happened? Where had she
failed? Oh, why hadn't Sister Loretto told her that there were men
like this? Why hadn't Aunt Claudia returned in time?

In the big box which Mandy had brought up were clothes--exquisite
things which Becky had ordered from New York. She had thought it a
miracle that George should have fallen in love with her believing her
poor. It showed, she felt, his splendidness, his kindly indifference
to--poverty. Yet she had planned a moment when he should know. When
their love was proclaimed to the world he should see her in a splendor
which matched his own. He had loved her in spite of her faded cottons,
in spite of her shabby shoes. She had made up her list carefully,
thinking of his sparkling eyes when he behold her.

She got out of bed and opened the box. The lively garments were
wrapped in rosy tissue paper, and tied with ribbons to match. It
seemed to Becky as if those rosy wrappings held the last faint glow of
her dreams.

She untied the ribbons of the top parcel, and disclosed a frock of fine
white lace--there was cloth of silver for a petticoat, and silver
slippers. She would have worn her pearls, and George and she would
have danced together at the Harvest Ball at the Merriweathers. It was
an annual and very exclusive affair in the county. It was not likely
that the