asted it--or snuffed it--she said it needed a bar of soap cut up to
give it strength--or flavor--and I went into the store room for it.

The laundry soap was in a box. I took in a silver fork, for I hated to
touch the stuff, and jabbed a bar successfully in the semi-darkness.
Then I carried it back to the laundry and dropped it on the table. Aunt
Selina looked at the fork with disgust; then we both looked at the soap.
ONE SIDE OF IT WAS COVERED WITH ROUND HOLES THAT CURVED AROUND ON EACH
OTHER LIKE A COILED SNAKE.

I ran back to the store room, and there, a little bit sticky and
smelling terribly of rosin, lay Anne's pearl necklace!

I was so excited that I seized Aunt Selina by the hands and danced her
all over the place. Then I left her, trying to find her hair pins on the
floor, and ran up to tell the others. I met Betty in the hall and waved
the pearls at her. But she did not notice them.

"Is Mr. Harbison down there?" she asked breathlessly. "I left him on the
roof and went down to my room for my scarf, and when I went back he
had disappeared. He--he doesn't seem to be in the house." She tried
to laugh, but her voice was shaky. "He couldn't have got down without
passing me, anyhow," she supplemented. "I suppose I'm silly, but so many
queer things have happened, Kit."

"I wouldn't worry, Betty," I soothed her. "He is big enough to take care
of himself. And with the best intentions in the world, you can't have
him all the time, you know."

She was too much startled to be indignant. She followed me into the
library, where the sight of the pearls produced a tremendous excitement,
and then every one had to go down to the store room, and see where the
necklace had been hidden, and Max examined all the bars of soap for
thumb prints.

Mr. Harbison did not appear. Max commented on the fact caustically,
but Dal hushed him up. And so, Anne hugging her pearls, and Aunt Selina
having put a final seasoning of washing powder on the clothes in the
tub, we all went upstairs to bed. It had been a long day, and the
morning would at least bring bridge.

I was almost ready for bed when Jim tapped at my door. I had been very
cool to him since the night in the library when I was publicly staked
and martyred, and he was almost cringing when I opened the door.

"What is it now?" I asked cruelly. "Has Bella tired of it already, or
has somebody else a rash?"

"Don't be a shrew, Kit," he said. "I don't want you to do anything. I
o