y fingers trembled. Oh, can
it be? Oh, you good, cold-blooded Christie!--Poor things!--Come along,
Diamond! Oh you beauty! Oh you duck!"

"Don't be in such a hurry. I only said I thought it was a diamond. Let
me weigh it against water, and then I shall KNOW."

He took it to his little laboratory, and returned in a few minutes, and
said, "Yes. It is just three times and a half heavier than water. It is
a diamond."

"Are you positive?"

"I'll stake my existence."

"What is it worth?"

"My dear, I'm not a jeweller: but it is very large and pear-shaped,
and I see no flaw: I don't think you could buy it for less than three
hundred pounds."

"Three hundred pounds! It is worth three hundred pounds."

"Or sell it for more than a hundred and fifty pounds."

"A hundred and fifty! It is worth a hundred and fifty pounds."

"Why, my dear, one would think you had invented 'the diamond.' Show me
how to crystallize carbon, and I will share your enthusiasm."

"Oh, I leave you to carbonize crystal. I prefer to gladden hearts: and I
will do it this minute, with my diamond."

"Do, dear; and I will take that opportunity to finish my article on
Adulteration."

Rosa drove off to Phoebe Dale.

Now Phoebe was drinking tea with Reginald Falcon, in her little parlor.
"Who is that, I wonder?" said she, when the carriage drew up.

Reginald drew back a corner of the gauze curtain which had been drawn
across the little glass door leading from the shop.

"It is a lady, and a beautiful--Oh! let me get out." And he rushed out
at the door leading to the kitchen, not to be recognized.

This set Phoebe all in a flutter, and the next moment Mrs. Staines
tapped at the little door, then opened it, and peeped. "Good news! may I
come in?"

"Surely," said Phoebe, still troubled and confused by Reginald's strange
agitation.

"There! It is a diamond!" screamed Rosa. "My husband knew it directly.
He knows everything. If ever you are ill, go to him and nobody else--by
the refraction, and the angle, and its being three times and a half as
heavy as water. It is worth three hundred pounds to buy, and a hundred
and fifty pounds to sell."

"Oh!"

"So don't you go throwing it away, as he did. (In a whisper.) Two
teacups? Was that him? I have driven him away. I am so sorry. I'll go;
and then you can tell him. Poor fellow!"

"Oh, ma'am, don't go yet," said Phoebe, trembling. "I haven't half
thanked you."

"Oh, bother thanks. Kiss me; that is