h, Angel!' said Betty in hushed tones, touching the
trinkets with reverent fingers. Angelica had put her hands before her
eyes. A great rush of memory was sweeping over her, for it is the
little things that take hold of our minds when we are children, and the
sight of them in after years brings the big things in their train. And
those pearls used to be twisted among the sunny curls of the head that
had bent over her little bed on long ago evenings, and the ruby ring
had sparkled on the hand that used to clasp her baby fingers. And that
miniature with its gold setting? Did not mamma wear it on a gold chain
out of sight? Had not Betty's little restless fingers pulled it out
one day, and had not Angel wondered as her mother kissed it with dewy
eyes and put it back? Betty was holding it to the light.

'Why, Angel,' she exclaimed wonderingly, 'it's Godfrey.'

And Penny, with her apron to her eyes, explained,

'No, no, my dear, it's his poor dear papa, that's who it is.'

'My papa!' ejaculated Godfrey, with round eyes, 'why, Penny, it's a
little boy.'

'And so he was a little boy,' sobbed Penny, 'and the dearest,
beautifullest little boy ever I saw or anybody saw, and his dear mamma
had his picture done the day he was eight years old, and she wore it
till she died, bless her heart.'

Angel bent her head and kissed the laughing face as she had seen her
mother kiss it.

'And Cousin Crayshaw sent it to us,' said Betty thoughtfully; 'now I
know what he meant about remembering and forgetting.'

'I don't,' said Godfrey, 'but I want Aunt Angel to hang papa's picture
round her neck.'

'Yes, yes, Angel, you must,' said Betty eagerly, clasping the chain
about her sister's throat; 'you talked to him--you remember--and I
don't really, though I'm sure I feel a kind of something as if I should
know him.'

'Then you must wear mamma's pearls, Betty dear, you must indeed.'

'No, indeed, I mustn't, because you are going to. Yes, you are, Angel,
don't say a word--you are going to wear them in your hair like she used
to. Penny, please put up Angel's hair like mamma's picture. I am
going to have this dear, dear brooch, with all the twisted bits of gold
and the little tiny diamonds; fancy me in diamonds! You ought to have
them really, but I know you like the others best.'

And so, a few minutes later, when Angel met Cousin Crayshaw on the
stairs, he quite started at the sight of her, with the gold chain round
her neck and