housands of hints about pearls. Ah,
well!" She hooked the coat with an air of resignation. "We must take
the will for the deed. Have you had nice things?"

"My mother sent me a very handsome present," Claire said demurely. She
had no personal agitations about the day's post; but she did feel
interested in the thought of those parcels from Switzerland which lay
awaiting Janet Willoughby's return. Half eager, half shrinking, she
looked forward to seeing their contents.

It was in Janet's dainty boudoir that the unpacking took place. The two
girls went straight upstairs on their return from church, and there, on
a gate-legged table, lay the pile of parcels which had arrived by the
morning's delivery. Janet pounced upon the Swiss packets, and cut the
fastenings with eager haste. From across the room Claire watched her
eager face as she read the inscriptions one by one. As she neared the
end of the pile, the eagerness became tinged with anxiety; she picked up
the last parcel of all, and the light died out of her face.

Claire turned aside and affected to be absorbed in examining the
contents of an old cabinet, and Janet moved to the nearer side of the
table so that her face was hidden from view; after a few minutes of
silence, she broke the silence in a voice of forced lightness.

"Won't you come and look at my trophies? Switzerland is not a very
happy hunting-ground, for there is so little variety to be had. That's
my fifth carved chalet, and about the seventeenth bear. Rather a dear,
though, isn't he? Such a nice man sent it--one of the nicest of men.
That's his photograph on the mantelpiece."

Claire looked, met a straight keen glance which lived in her memory, and
felt a tingle of blood in her cheeks. Janet's eyes followed hers, and
she said quickly--

"Not that; that's Erskine Fanshawe. He is a casual person, and doesn't
go in for presents. He hasn't even troubled to send a card. I meant
the man in the leather frame. He always remembers. I do like that, in
a man! They are all good enough in an emergency, but so few of them
think of the nice _little_ things!" Janet sighed, and dropped the
carved wooden bear on to the table. However much she might appreciate
the donor's thoughtfulness, it had not had a cheering effect. The light
had died out of her eyes, and she turned over the various trophies
without a trace of the enthusiasm with which she had torn open the
parcel. Claire standing beside