ound
him and explained to him that this beautiful thing was a jewel, an
emerald, and must have belonged in a great lady's ring. Her father
had been a goldsmith and she had often seen such jewels in their
setting. They were bought with great sums of money, and to lose one
was like losing money. And that was true, too, of finding one. Money
must be returned and so must this.

Money--money--his head swam. Could he have bought his heart's desire
with the little green gleam? He put his head on his mother's knee
and, for all his efforts, a sob sounded in his throat. She lifted
him up against her warm, soft breast, and her hands were smoother
and cooler than his Lady's, and he told her all that was in his heart,
and she told him all that was in hers, for him.

Later they talked like comrades and partners about the emerald, and
decided that it must belong to someone in Pliny's villa, either to
Calpurnia herself or to one of her guests. They agreed that they could
not sleep until it was returned. The mother had to stay near the
sleeping old man, but the villa was only two miles away, the
neighbourhood was safe, with a dog as companion, and Marcus was a
fast walker on his strong bare feet. At the villa he could ask for
Lucius, who came to the farm twice a week for eggs and chickens. "He
is an old servant," she said, "loyal to his master and friendly toward
us. He is sure to be kind to you. I will do the jewel up in a little
package and put father's seal on it, and you can trust it to him.
Be sure to give it to no one else."

So Marcus, with his dog, long past his usual bed-time, trudged forth
into the night whose cavernous shadows deepened the shadows in his
little heart. The worst of the adventure was walking up through the
grounds of the villa and facing the porter at the servants' door and
asking for Lucius. When he came, the boy thrust the package into his
hand, stammered out an explanation, and ran away before the
bewildered old man knew what had happened. On the way home the dog
seemed to share his master's discouragement and left unchallenged
the evening music of the bull-frogs. When Marcus stretched his tired
legs out in bed he thought of to-morrow with the sheep again, and
wondered dully why his Lady and her mysterious comrade in the pasture
had cheated him. His mother, going into the kitchen to see that the
wood was ready for the morning, snatched the red roses from the table
spread for Fors Fortuna and threw them f