ave a right to borrow my own Aunt's things if she
is too mean to lend them. It's a shame of her to want to keep the only
decent jewel we have shut up. Amy gets more selfish every day."

"But you will put it back before she misses it?"

Mrs. Coombe could see her step-daughter's face quite plainly and its
expression made her wince, but she was reckless to-night. After all, why
pretend? If Esther intended to eternally interfere with her affairs the
sooner an open break came, the better.

"Perhaps, perhaps not. Certainly not until I return from my visit."

Esther fought down her rising dismay.

"Mother, don't you understand what you are doing? The ring is Aunt Amy's
You have no right to take it!"

"I've a right if I choose to make one."

"If Auntie finds out it is not in its box, we cannot tell what the
effect may be!"

"She needn't find out. What she doesn't know won't hurt her!"

"But--it is stealing!"

Mrs. Coombe laughed. "What a baby you are, Esther, for all your solemn
eyes and grown-up airs. Stealing--the idea! Anyway you need not worry
since you are not the thief." She yawned again, rose, and declared that
she felt quite tired enough to go to bed.

When she had gone, Jane left her lessons and came to her sister's side.

"Esther, do I really have to go away with Mother?"

"It looks like it, Janie. But you'll like it. Mrs. Bremner has a little
girl."

"I don't like little girls."

"Then you ought to! The change will probably do you good."

Jane looked dubious. "Things that I don't want never do me any good.
Will you help me with my 'rithmetic?"

"I will when I come back."

"Where're you going?"

"Out. I'll not be long. Answer Aunt Amy's bell if it rings, like a dear
child."

Esther's decision had been made, as many important decisions are,
suddenly, and without conscious thought. All the puzzling over what was
right and wrong seemed no longer necessary. Without knowing why, she
knew that it had become imperative to get some good advice and get it at
once. If she had been disturbed and uneasy before, she was frightened
now. Something must be done, if not for Mary's sake at least for the
sake of the honoured name she bore, and for Jane's sake!

"Mother doesn't seem to _know_ when a thing is wrong any more!" was the
burden of the girl's thought as she hurried upstairs.

She knew where the prescription was kept--in a little drawer of her
father's old desk, a drawer supposed to be secret. To-mor