o buy.

In about a fortnight she called again, primed with evasions if she
should be asked to sit; but nothing of the kind was proposed. Phoebe was
dealing when she went in. The customers disposed of, she said to Mrs.
Staines, "Oh, ma'am, I am glad you are come. I have something I should
like to show you." She took her into the parlor, and made her sit down:
then she opened a drawer, and took out a very small substance that
looked like a tear of ground glass, and put it on the table before
her. "There, ma'am," said she, "that is all he has had for painting a
friend's picture."

"Oh! what a shame."

"His friend was going abroad--to Natal; to his uncle that farms out
there, and does very well; it is a first-rate part, if you take out a
little stock with you, and some money; so my one gave him credit, and
when the letter came with that postmark, he counted on a five-pound
note; but the letter only said he had got no money yet, but sent him
something as a keepsake: and there was this little stone. Poor fellow!
he flung it down in a passion; he was so disappointed."

Phoebe's great gray eyes filled; and Rosa gave a little coo of sympathy
that was very womanly and lovable.

Phoebe leaned her cheek on her hand, and said thoughtfully, "I picked it
up, and brought it away; for, after all--don't you think, ma'am, it is
very strange that a friend should send it all that way, if it was worth
nothing at all?"

"It is impossible. He could not be so heartless."

"And do you know, ma'am, when I take it up in my fingers, it doesn't
feel like a thing that was worth nothing."

"No more it does: it makes my fingers tremble. May I take it home, and
show it my husband? he is a great physician and knows everything."

"I am sure I should be obliged to you, ma'am."

Rosa drove home, on purpose to show it to Christopher. She ran into
his study: "Oh, Christopher, please look at that. You know that good
creature we have our flour and milk and things of. She is engaged, and
he is a painter. Oh, such daubs! He painted a friend, and the friend
sent that home all the way from Natal, and he dashed it down, and SHE
picked it up, and what is it? ground glass, or a pebble, or what?"

"Humph!--by its shape, and the great--brilliancy--and refraction of
light, on this angle, where the stone has got polished by rubbing
against other stones, in the course of ages, I'm inclined to think it
is--a diamond."

"A diamond!" shrieked Rosa. "No wonder m