n the velvet-lined case, and round it was a
circular depression in which a row of pearls lay coiled.

"Yes, that is the chain to wear with the locket," Margaret said. "It is
attached to it."

"If it wasn't I should wear the pearls by themselves," Eleanor said,
examining them intently. "They are a perfectly lovely row, and must be
worth a lot of money. You had better keep this very carefully locked up,
Margaret," she said, snapping to the case and handing it back to its
owner. "They are hardly the sort of things that a governess would be
likely to possess."

"My bag has a very good key," Margaret answered, "so I should always keep
it locked and wear the key on my watch-chain."

When Eleanor heard that Margaret had never been to London, and had only
the very vaguest idea of what Hampstead, where she was supposed to have
lived for the last six years, was like, she had given vent to a low
whistle expressive of despair. And as their time together was now drawing
short she felt that it would be better to give Margaret a verbal
description of that suburb rather than attempt to write one out for her.
So as hurriedly as she could she told Margaret as much about Hampstead as
she could think of on the spur of the moment. Margaret listened
attentively, and as she had naturally an excellent memory, which had been
trained to a marvellous pitch of perfection by Miss Bidwell, she found no
difficulty at all in committing to heart almost every word that Eleanor
uttered on the subject.

The train was running now through exceedingly pretty scenery, but neither
of the two girls had any attention to spare for it; every minute of their
time was occupied in endeavouring to make themselves as perfect as
possible in their new characters. But at last when a long, undulating
range of distant blue hills turned themselves slowly into green downs,
and instead of occupying the horizon only, filled the middle distance
entirely, leaving a foreground of flat green fields between themselves
and the train, Eleanor, glancing out of the window, gave it as her
opinion that they must be fairly close to Chailfield now, and that at the
next station she would change into a first-class carriage.

The rain had long since ceased, and the sun, as it sank towards the range
of hills that rose against the western sky, was shining brilliantly out
of a mass of gorgeously hued clouds. As it turned out, however, Eleanor
had no chance to change into a first-class carri