"I shall watch to see if you contradict Lu this way."

"I don't need. How absorbed she is! Mr. Dudley is 'interesting'?"

"I don't know. No. But then, Lu is a good girl, and he's her
minister,--a Delphic oracle. She thinks the sun and moon set somewhere
round Mr. Dudley. Oh! I mean to show him my amber."

And I tossed it into Lu's lap, saying,--

"Show it to Mr. Dudley, Lu,--and ask him if it isn't divine!"

Of course, he was shocked, and wouldn't go into ecstasies at all;
tripped on the adjective.

"There are gods enough in it to be divine," said Rose, taking it from
Lu's hand and bringing it back to me. "All those very Gnostic deities
who assisted at Creation. You are not afraid that the imprisoned things
work their spells upon you? The oracle declares it suits your cousin
best," he added, in a lower tone.

"All the oaf knows!" I responded. "I wish you'd admire it, Mr. Dudley.
Mr. Rose don't like amber,--handles it like nettles."

"No," said Rose, "I don't like amber."

"He prefers aqua-marina," I continued. "Lu, produce yours!" For she had
not heard him.

"Yes," said Mr. Dudley, rubbing his finger over his lip while he gazed,
"every one must prefer aqua-marina."

"Nonsense! It's no better than glass. I'd as soon wear a set of
window-panes. There's no expression in it. It isn't alive, like real
gems."

Mr. Dudley stared. Rose laughed.

"What a vindication of amber!" he said.

He was standing now, leaning against the mantel, just as he was before
lunch. Lu looked at him and smiled.

"Yone is exultant, because we both wanted the beads," she said. "I like
amber as much as she."

"Nothing near so much, Lu!"

"Why didn't you have them, then?" asked Rose, quickly.

"Oh, they belonged to Yone; and uncle gave me these, which I like
better. Amber is warm, and smells of the earth; but this is cool and
dewy, and"----

"Smells of heaven?" asked I, significantly.

Mr. Dudley began to fidget, for he saw no chance of finishing his
exposition.

"As I was saying, Miss Louisa," he began, in a different key.

I took my beads and wound them round my wrist. "You haven't as much eye
for color as a poppy-bee," I exclaimed, in a corresponding key, and
looking up at Rose.

"Unjust. I was thinking then how entirely they suited you."

"Thank you. Vastly complimentary from one who 'don't like amber'!"

"Nevertheless, you think so."

"Yes and no. Why don't you like it?"

"You mustn't ask me for my reasons. It i