ile her heart was aching. Her fingers held the parcel
tightly; what a hearts-ease it was! It had brought her peace of mind that
was worth more hard promises than she could think of making.

"He said his father's great-grandfather had eaten out of that plate over
in Holland and he had but one more left to bequeath to his little
grandson."

"I'm glad the great-grandfather didn't break it," said Marjorie.

Hollis would not disturb her serenity by remarking that the shoemaker
_might_ have added a century to the age of his possession; it looked two
hundred years old, anyway.

"Good-bye, again, if you don't get killed next time you fall you may live
to see me again. I'll wear a linen coat and smell of cheese and smoke a
pipe too long for me to light myself by that time--when I come home from
Germany."

"Oh, don't," she exclaimed, in a startled voice.

"Which? The coat or the cheese or the pipe."

"I don't care about the cheese or the coat--"

"You needn't be afraid about the pipe; I promised mother to-day that I
would never smoke or drink or play cards."

"That's good," said Marjorie, contentedly.

"And so she feels safe about me; safer than I feel about myself, I
reckon. But it _is_ good-bye this time. I'll tell Helen what a little
mouse and goose you are!"

"Hollis! _Hollis!_" shouted a gruff voice, impatiently.

"Aye, aye, sir," Hollis returned. "But I must say good-bye to your mother
and Linnet."

Instead of giving him a last look she was giving her first look to her
treasure. The first look was doubtful. It was not half as pretty as the
pitcher. It was not very large and there were innumerable tiny cracks
interlacing each other, there were little raised figures on the broad rim
and a figure in the centre, the colors were buff and blue. But it was a
treasure, twofold more a treasure than the yellow pitcher, for it was
twice as old and had come from Holland. The yellow pitcher had only come
from England. Miss Prudence would be satisfied that she had not hidden
the pitcher to escape detection, and perhaps her friend might like this
ancient plate a great deal better and be glad of what had befallen the
pitcher. But suppose Miss Prudence did believe all this time that she had
hidden the broken pieces and meant, never to tell! At that, she could not
forbear squeezing her face into the pillow and dropping a few very
sorrowful tears. Still she was glad, even with a little contradictory
faint-heartedness, for Holl