ace appeared. Miss Prudence smiled and laid her finger on her lips and,
smiling, too, the mother moved away. Linnet, in her kitchen apron, and
with the marks of the morning's baking on her fingers, next looked in,
nodded and ran away. After awhile, the sleeping eyelids quivered and
lifted themselves; a quick flush, a joyous exclamation and Marjorie
sprang into her friend's arms.

"I _felt_ as if I were not alone! How long have you been here? Oh, why
_didn't_ you speak to me or touch me?"

"I wanted to have the pleasure all on my side. I never saw you asleep
before."

"I hope I didn't keep my mouth open and snore."

"Oh, no, your lips were gently apart and you breathed regularly as they
would say in books!"

Marjorie laughed, released Miss Prudence from the tight clasp and went
back to her chair.

"You received my note and the plate," she said anxiously.

"Both in perfect preservation. There was not one extra crack in the
plate, it was several hours older than when it left your hands, but that
only increases its value."

"And did you think I was dreadful not to confess before?" asked Marjorie,
tremulously.

"I thought you were dreadful to run away from me instead of _to_ me."

"I was so sorry; I wanted to get something else before you knew about it.
Did you miss it?"

"I missed something in the room, I could not decide what it was."

"Will the plate do, do you think? Is it handsome enough?"

"It is old enough, that is all the question. Do you know all about
Holland when that plate first came into existence?"

"No; I only know there _was_ a Holland."

"That plate will be a good point to begin with. You and I will study up
Holland some day. I wonder what you know about it now."

"Is that why your friend wants the plate, because she knows about Holland
two hundred years ago?"

"No; I'm afraid not. I don't believe she knows more than you do about it.
But she will delight in the plate. Which reminds me, your uncle has
promised to put the unfortunate pitcher together for me. And in its
mended condition it will appear more ancient than ever. I cannot say that
George Washington broke it with his little hatchet; but I can have a
legend about you connected with it, and tell it to your grandchildren
when I show it to them fifty years hence. Unto them I will discover--not
a swan's nest among the reeds, as Mrs. Browning has it, but an old yellow
pitcher that their lovely grandmother was in trouble about fifty yea