ugar, everything that the people want--all brought ashore
from the wreck and strewn along the beach. The Customs' Officers get
some, but the Maori gets most. I've brought you a memento."

She put her hand into the pocket of her riding-habit, and drew out a
little packet. "That is for you--a souvenir of the wreck."

"Isn't it rather like stealing, to take what really belongs to other
people?"

"Rubbish! Open it, and see for yourself," said Amiria, smiling.

Rose undid the packet's covering, and disclosed a black leather-covered
case, much the worse for wear.

"It isn't injured by the water--it was in a tin-lined box," said the
Maori girl. "It opens like a card-case."

Rose opened the little receptacle, which divided in the middle, and
there lay exposed a miniature portrait framed in oxidized silver.

The portrait represented a beautiful woman, yellow-haired, with blue
eyes and a bright colour on her cheeks, lips which showed indulgence in
every curve, and a snow-white neck around which was clasped a string of
red coral beads.

Rose fixed her eyes on the picture.

"Why do you give me this?" she asked. "Who is it?"

Amiria turned the miniature over. On its back was written "Annabel
Summerhayes."

Rose turned slightly pale as she read the name, and her breath caught in
her throat. "This must be my mother," she said quietly. "When she died,
I was too young to remember her."

Both girls looked at the portrait; the brown face close to the fair, the
black hair touching the brown.

"She must have been very good," said Amiria, "----look how kind she is."

Rose was silent.

"Isn't that a nice memento of the wreck," continued the Maori girl. "But
anyhow you would have received it, for the Collector of Customs has the
packing-case in which it was found. However, I thought you would like to
get it as soon as possible."

"How kind you are," said Rose, as she kissed Amiria. "This is the only
picture of my mother I have seen. I never knew what she was like. This
is a perfect revelation to me."

The tears were in her voice as well as in her eyes, and her lip
trembled. Softly one brown hand stole into her white one, and another
brown hand stole round her waist, and she felt Amiria's warm lips on her
cheek. The two girls had been playmates as children, they had been at
school together, and had always shared each other's confidences, but
this matter of Annabel Summerhayes was one which her father had
forbidden Rose to