he very gladly did, leaving me alone with the pale
girl. At once I got up, showing my fatigue and slightly yawning.

"This is very tedious," I muttered aloud, and stepped idly towards the
door leading into the hall.

The girl at the box could not restrain her impatience. She cast me
another short glance. I affected not to see it; took out my watch,
consulted it, put it back quickly and slipped out into the hall. As I
closed the door behind me, I heard a slight creak. Instantly I was back
again, and with so sudden a movement that I surprised her, with her face
bent over the open box.

"Oh, my poor young lady," I exclaimed, springing towards her with every
appearance of great concern. "You do not look able to stand. Lean on me
if you feel faint, and I will help you to a seat."

She turned upon me in a fury, but, meeting my eye, assumed an air of
composure, which did not impose upon me in the least, or prevent me from
pressing close to her side and taking one look into the box, which she
had evidently not had sufficient self-possession to close.

The sight which met my eye was not unexpected, yet was no less
interesting on that account. A hand--_the_ hand--curiously made of
bronze, and of exquisite proportions, lay on its enamelled cushion, with
rings on all of its fingers save one. That one I was delighted to see
was the middle one, proof positive that the mischief contemplated by
Miss Calhoun had not yet been accomplished.

Restored to complete self-possession by this discovery, I examined the
box and its contents with an air of polite curiosity. I surprised myself
by my self-possession and _bonhomie_.

"What an odd thing to find in a physician's office!" I exclaimed.
"Beautiful, is it not? An unusual work of art; but there is nothing in
it to alarm you. You shouldn't allow yourself to be frightened at such
a thing as that." And with a quick action, she was wholly powerless to
prevent, I shut down the lid, which closed with a snap.

Startled and greatly discomposed, she drew back, hastily thrusting her
hand behind her.

"You are very officious," she began, but, seeing nothing but good nature
in the smile with which I regarded her, she faltered irresolutely, and
finally took refuge again in her former trick of invalidism. Breaking
out into low moanings, she fell back upon the nearest chair, from which
she immediately started again with the quick cry, "Oh, how I suffer! I
am not well enough to be out alone." And