t the
post-office an' he was glum as an oyster; an' when I asked him was he
sick all he said was he hoped there'd be no black satins in heaven."

"I told you she was fixin' it over!" cried Celestina triumphantly. "So
you was at the store, was you, Willie? You didn't say nothin' about
it."

"I forgot I went," confessed the little man. "Lemme see! I believe
'twas more nails took me down."

"Did you get any mail?"

"No--yes--I dunno. 'Pears like I did get somethin'. If I did, it's in
the pocket of my other coat."

Going into the hall he returned with a small white package which he
gave to Celestina.

"It ain't for me," said she, after she had examined the address. "It's
Bob's."

"Bob's, eh?" queried the inventor. "I didn't notice, not havin' on my
readin' glasses. So it's Bob's, is it?"

"Yes," answered Celestina, eyeing the neat parcel curiously.
"Whoever's sendin' you a bundle all tied up with white paper an' pink
string, Bob? It looks like it was jewelry."

Quickly Willie sprang to the rescue.

"Oh, Bob's been gettin' some repairin' done for the Brewsters,"
explained he. "Delight's buckle was broke an' knowin' the best place
to send it, he mailed it up to town."

"Oh," responded Celestina, glancing from one to the other with a half
satisfied air.

"Let's have the thing out an' see how it looks, Bob," Willie went on.

Blushingly Robert Morton undid the box.

Yes, there amid wrappings of tissue paper, on a bed of blue cotton
wool, rested the buckle of silver, its burnished surface sparkling in
the light.

He took it out and inspected it carefully.

"It is all O. K.," observed he, with an attempt at indifference. "See
what a fine piece of work they made of it."

The old man took from the table drawer a long leather case, drew out
another pair of spectacles which he exchanged for the ones he was
already wearing, and after scrutinizing the buckle and scowling at it
for an interval he carried it to the window.

"What's the matter?" Bob demanded, instantly alert. "Isn't the
repairing properly done?"

"'Tain't the repairin' I'm lookin' at," Willie returned slowly. "I've
no quarrel with that."

Still he continued to twist and turn the disc of silver, now holding it
at arm's length, now bringing it close to his eye with a puzzled
intentness.

Robert Morton could stand the suspense no longer.

"What's wrong with it?" he at last burst out.

Willie did not look up but evidently he caugh