l in
her great excitement of hunting for some pictures packed away in her
precious drawer, had forgotten to pocket the key that protected her few
treasures.

Ruthlessly, then, they were pulled out and overhauled, while Viny
reveled in each new discovery, chattering softly to herself in glee. She
tied on all the bright bits of ribbons she could lay her hands on,
to the little tiny tails adorning her head. She twisted with great
difficulty into a delicate white spenser that Caryl's mother had worn
when a girl, saved for its tender reminiscence, and for the soft, fine
old lace that would be of use to the young daughter by and by. Viny
was nowise disturbed in her enjoyment at certain ominous crackings
and creakings that proclaimed the giving way of the delicate material.
Arrayed at last to her satisfaction, although the lace did hang down in
some shreds where her impatient fingers had clutched it, she whirled and
whirled in front of the old-fashioned glass with many grimaces, trying
the effect of her new costume.

"I want sumfin to shine," she said at last, tired of this; "jew-EL-lery
an' stuns. Le's see ef she's got any."

Now in one corner of Caryl's drawer was a small black box;
unfortunately, the lock was broken in childhood, and there had been no
money to spare for repairs of anything of that sort, so she had tied it
securely with the strongest of twine, and written on the cover in big
schoolgirl hand the words, "DON'T ANY ONE DARE TO TOUCH!" Although Viny
was unable to decipher the writing in the least, it was fun enough to
attack the string, which presently succumbed to the violent onslaught of
tooth and nail, and the precious, precious bits of brightness were soon
at the mercy of the little black fingers.

Maum Patty was droning away in the kitchen some old Methodist hymns.
Viny was dimly conscious of a faint call from the invalid's room, as
she drew out in the utmost delight an old-fashioned brooch with a green
centre around which were some little sparkling things.

She couldn't even say "Jiminy!" but simply held the pretty thing which
seemed glad of its freedom from solitary confinement, and thus delighted
to sparkle more than ever in its resting-place in the little black
hand. With trembling fingers she fastened it into the centre of the lace
spenser, above her naughty little bosom, hurrying to the glass to do so,
and had just taken one look, when a low cry of distress struck upon her
ear.

It filled her