are clasp.

"A name?" asked Donald, thinking of the two initials.

"Yes, a name--a girl's name," continued the old man, rubbing his chin
and speaking slowly, as if trying to recollect. "Well, no matter.
Intending to engrave the name later in the afternoon, I wrote it down in
my order-book, and asked the lady for her address, so that I might send
the chain to her the next day. But, no; she would not leave it. She must
have the name engraved at once, right away, and must put the necklace
herself on her little daughter. She would wait. Ah, how it all comes
back to me! Well, I wished to obey the lady, and so set to work. But I
saw immediately there was not space enough for the whole name. She was
very sorry, poor lady, and then she said I should put on the two letters
D. R. There they are, you see, my own work--you see that? And she paid
me, and locked the chain on the baby's neck again--ah me! it is so
strange!--and she went away. That is all I know."

He had spoken the last few sentences rapidly, after Donald had asked,
with eagerness, "What name, Monsieur? What was the name, please, the
name that the lady wished you to engrave?"

Now the old man, hardly pausing, deliberately went back to Don's
question.

"The name? the name?--I cannot quite say."

"Was it--Delia?" suggested Donald, faintly.

"Yes, Delia. That was the name."

If Donald had been struck, he scarcely could have been more stunned.

"Wait!" exclaimed Monsieur. "We shall see. I will search the old books.
Do you know the year? 1850?--60? what?"

"1859, November," said Donald, wearily, his joy all turned to misgiving.

"Ha! Now we can be sure! Come into the shop. Your young legs can mount
these steps. If you please, hand down the book for 1859; you see it on
the back. Ah, how dusty! I have kept them so long. Now"--taking the
volume from Donald's trembling hands--"we shall see."

Don leaned over him, as the old man, mumbling softly to himself,
examined page after page.

"July, August, September--ah, I was a very busy man in those days--plenty
to do with my hands, but not making money as I have been since--different
line of business for the most part--October--November--here it is."

Donald leaned closer. He gave a sudden cry. Yes, there it was--a hasty
memorandum; part of the writing was unintelligible to him, but the main
word stood clear and distinct.

It was DOROTHY.

"Ah! Dorothy," echoed the other. "Yes, that was it. I told you so."

"You