girl, listen. You know what a very odd child we are all
forced to consider your sister Pen?"

"I should think so, indeed." Verena laughed.

"Well, your sister found out one day, not very long after I came, that I
had lost a thimble."

"Your beautiful gold thimble? Of course we all knew about that," said
Verena. "We were all interested, and we all tried to find it."

"I thought so. I knew that Pen in particular searched for it with
considerable pains, and I offered her a small prize if she found it."

Verena laughed.

"Poor Pen!" she said. "She nearly broke her back one day searching for
it. Oh, Aunt Sophy! I hope you will learn to do without it, for I am
greatly afraid that it will not be found now."

"And yet, Verena," said Miss Tredgold--and she laid her hand, which
slightly shook, on the girl's arm--"I could tell you of a certain person
in this house to whom a certain dress belongs, and unless I am much
mistaken, in the pocket of that dress reposes the thimble with its
sapphire base, its golden body, and its rim of pale-blue turquoise."

"Aunt Sophy! What do you mean?"

Verena's eyes were wide open, and a sort of terror filled them.

"Don't start, dear. That person is your sister Pauline."

"Oh! Pauline! Impossible! Impossible!" cried Verena.

"It is true, nevertheless. Do you remember that day when she was nearly
drowned?"

"Can I forget it?"

"The next morning I was in her room, and the servant brought in the
dark-blue serge dress she wore, which had been submerged so long in the
salt water. It had been dried, and she was bringing it back. The girl
held in her hand the thimble--the thimble of gold and sapphire and
turquoise. She held the thimble in the palm of her hand, and said, 'I
found it in the pocket of the young lady's dress. It is injured, but the
jeweller can put it right again.' You can imagine my feelings. For a time
I was motionless, holding the thimble in my hand. Then I resolved to put
it back where it had been found. I have heard nothing of it since from
any one. I don't suppose Pauline has worn that skirt again; the thimble
is doubtless there."

"Oh, may I run and look? May I?"

"No, no; leave it in its hiding-place. Do you think the thimble matters
to me? What does matter is this--that Pauline should come and tell me,
simply and quietly, the truth."

"She will. She must. I feel as if I were in a dream. I can scarcely
believe this can be true."

"Alas! my dear, it is. And ther