me back this afternoon,' Arthur replied,
rather excitedly, just as a sharp ring at the bell announced the arrival
of Burchard and Belknap, the leading carpenters of the town, with whom
he was closeted for the next two hours, and both of whom he finally
hired in order to expedite the work he had in hand.

At precisely three o'clock the carriage from Tracy Park drew up before
the station, awaiting the arrival of the train and Gretchen, but though
the former came, the latter did not, and John returned alone, mentally
avowing to himself that he would not be sent on a fool's errand a third
time; but five o'clock found him there again with the same result.
Gretchen did not come, and Arthur's face wore a sad, troubled
expression, and looked pale and worn, notwithstanding the many times he
bathed it in the coldest water and rubbed it with the coarsest towels.

He had unpacked several of his trunks and boxes, and made friends of all
she servants by the presents, curious and rare, which he gave them,
while Dolly's headache had been wholly cured at sight of the exquisite
diamonds which her husband brought to her room and told her were hers,
the gift of Arthur, who had bought them in Paris, and who begged her to
accept them with his love.

The box itself, which was of tortoise shell, lined with blue velvet, was
a marvel of beauty, while the pin was a cluster of five diamonds with a
larger one in the center, but the ear-rings were solitaires, large and
brilliant, and Dolly's delight knew no bounds as she took the dazzling
stones in her hands and examined them carefully. Diamond were the jewels
of all others which she coveted, but which Frank never felt warranted in
buying, and now they were hers, and for a time she forgot even Gretchen,
whose arrival, or rather non-arrival, troubled her as much as it did her
brother-in-law.

Arthur had been very quiet and gentle all the afternoon, showing no sign
of the temper he had exhibited the previous night at sight of Harold
until about six o'clock, when Tom, his ten-year-old nephew, came rushing
into the library, followed by Peterkin, very hot and very red in the
face, which he mopped with his yellow silk handkerchief.

'Oh, mother,' Tom began, 'what do you think Harold Hastings has done? He
stole Mrs. Peterkin's gold pin last night. It was stuck in her shawl,
and she couldn't find it, and Lucy saw him fumbling with the things, and
he denies it up hill and down, and Mr. Peterkin is going