to mother I kept hinting that the glories of
Bellaire were actually taking root in my soul," said Cleo, as the girl
dressed next morning, almost unconscious of the task they were
performing. "Now she will understand the metaphor."

"And Michael is going to give us all a ride up to the studio before
breakfast," exclaimed Madaline. "He wants to try the car to make sure
it is all right."

"Try it on us," laughed Grace. Nevertheless she was the first one to
find the best seat, when the car directly honked at the door.

Reda was beautifully installed in her own room, and pompously accepting
the ministrations of Katie Bergen, when the girls found her at the
studio. How delightful it all was! Mary was speechless with sheer joy.

"It is perfectly glorious!" she kept exclaiming. "And to think that
daddy is coming! How can I believe it after all my dark days!"

"Girls! Let's have one more blissful look in the orchid room!" begged
Grace. "It won't be the same when others come."

Almost like a little procession they wended their way into the
conservatory. At the opening of the door they were almost overcome
with the perfume of the tropics that burst from the riot of glory there.

They looked from one bloom to another. Mary told them how Professor
Benson had made every sort of bulb bloom in the hope of finding the
lost treasure, the rarest orchid in the world. Then she explained why
she and Reda had gathered queer roots from which the botanist had
ground fertilizer, but that all of this had not brought forth the
priceless bloom.

They were reluctantly leaving when Madaline and Grace espied Mary's old
home-made doll. It was so quaint and queer they both sought to reclaim
it at once.

"Just look!" said Madaline. "What a funny old doll!"

"Isn't it jolly," added Grace, whose hand was on the discarded toy just
as Madaline picked it up.

"Why, the orchids have taken root in it, Mary," declared Grace. "See,
this sprout growing out of the arm!"

"Let me see!" almost cried Mary. "Oh, girls, it is it! It is the lost
orchid. Grandie had sewed it up in the doll! Look. See that stem!"
She was shouting almost wildly, for there, shooting from the broken arm
pit of the queer old hand-made doll was the unmistakable tendril of the
long sought for orchid.

"And we both found it at exactly the same minute!" announced Grace when
the full value of their discovery dawned upon them. "Cleo found an
adorable cousin, and