r that Kenneth had really intended to keep the
ring.

'You will remain in your room till the picnic party has started,' the
aunt went on, 'and then you must find the ring. Remember I expect it to
be found when I return. And I hope you will be in a better frame of mind
and really sorry for having been so wicked.'

'Mayn't I see Alison?' was all he found to say.

And the answer was, 'Certainly not. I cannot allow you to associate with
your cousins. You are not fit to be with honest, truthful children.'

So they all went to the picnic, and Kenneth was left alone. When they
had gone he crept down and wandered furtively through the empty rooms,
ashamed to face the servants, and feeling almost as wicked as though he
had really done something wrong. He thought about it all, over and over
again, and the more he thought the more certain he was that he _had_
handed back the ring to Alison last night when the voices of the
servants were first heard from the dark lawn.

But what was the use of saying so? No one would believe him, and it
would be sneaking anyhow. Besides, perhaps he _hadn't_ handed it back to
her. Or rather, perhaps he had handed it and she hadn't taken it.
Perhaps it had slipped into the boat. He would go and see.

But he did not find it in the boat, though he turned up the carpet and
even took up the boards to look. And then an extremely miserable little
boy began to search for an amethyst ring in all sorts of impossible
places, indoors and out. You know the hopeless way in which you look for
things that you know perfectly well you will never find, the borrowed
penknife that you dropped in the woods, for instance, or the week's
pocket-money which slipped through that hole in your pocket as you went
to the village to spend it.

The servants gave him his meals and told him to cheer up. But cheering
up and Kenneth were, for the time, strangers. People in books never can
eat when they are in trouble, but I have noticed myself that if the
trouble has gone on for some hours, eating is really rather a comfort.
You don't enjoy eating so much as usual, perhaps, but at any rate it is
something to do, and takes the edge off your sorrow for a short time.
And cook was sorry for Kenneth and sent him up a very nice dinner and a
very nice tea. Roast chicken and gooseberry pie the dinner was, and for
tea there was cake with almond icing on it.

The sun was very low when he went back wearily to have one more look in
the bo