e none the worse--lay _the diamond
ornament_, gran's curious old-fashioned treasure, which had caused poor
mums and Anne, and indeed all of us, so much trouble and distress.

I gasped. I couldn't speak. Judith stared.

'What is it?' she said.

Then I tried to get my voice.

'It's the thing that was lost,' I said, 'worth ever so much, and an
heirloom too. Didn't you know? Cousin Dorothea knew. Mother lost it the
day of the Drawing-room. Oh,' as light began to break in upon me, 'it
must have dropped on to your cape and caught in the fur--it is very
fuzzy fur--and there it's been ever since! Oh, to think of it!'

'Yes,' said Judith, 'there it has been ever since. I've never had on the
cape since, and my maid put it in with these shawls when I was coming
down here. I remember her saying it might be cold here sometimes. No, I
never heard a word about the ornament being lost. You know I didn't come
back to your house that day; I went straight home. I wonder I never
heard of it. But I've been in Germany till lately; and if I had heard of
it I don't think I would ever have thought of this little cape. It must
have fallen into the hood of my cape in the carriage. I remember I sat
beside Mrs. Warwick. It is really wonderful!'

Wasn't it? We could talk of nothing else all the way to the farm, for we
set off almost at once, and we only got there in time to prevent poor
nurse and Mrs. Parsley from being most terribly frightened about us, as
they had just arrived, Mrs. Parsley having driven to the station to pick
up nurse on her own way home, as the old aunt was a little better, and
she'd got a neighbour to come in for the night.

Nurse was rather uneasy when she heard from Mrs. Parsley that she'd had
to leave us, still Fanny, the servant, was very good-natured, and, as
Mrs. Parsley said, it was difficult to think what harm _could_ come to
us in a couple of hours.

Certainly, getting locked up in church was a very out-of-the-way sort of
accident to happen!

But the finding the diamond brooch seemed to put everything else out of
our heads. I don't know how late we didn't sit up talking. Maudie grew
quite bright again, and I think the excitement kept her from catching
cold. Serry, for a wonder, was the quietest of all. She told me
afterwards that she was more thankful than she could say that her
naughtiness hadn't done Maud any harm, and she told it all to
mother--all of her own self. I think that was good of her. The only
t