please the invalid man. Big Danny took childish pleasure in
listening for the incoming and New York-bound trains.

"What's keeping Dale? Prob'bly hanging 'round the Inn!"

Mrs. Moira smothered the quick retort that sprang to her lips in defense
of her boy.

"He'll be here any minute," she said instead, comfortingly. "There he is
now!" Her quick ear had caught a step outside.

Beryl, not Dale, opened the door and confronted them. Suppressed
excitement, impatience, eagerness, an inward disgust of herself for
being a "selfish thing anyway" combined to give Beryl's face such an
unnatural pallor and haggard tensity of expression that big Danny
whirled his chair toward her and Mrs. Lynch caught her hands over her
heart.

"Beryl?" she cried, standing quite still.

Beryl walked to her and very quietly gathered her into her young arms.

"Don't look so scared, Mom, dear. Oh, _don't_ cry! Why, I'm near crying
myself! After I've told you all that has happened I shall just _bawl_.
I'm too dreadfully happy. Sit down here, Mom, and hold my hand tight.
Wait--I must take my things off first."

In a twinkling she had her stage "set" for her surprise. Strangely
stirred herself, she had to gulp once or twice before she could begin
her story. It was difficult to keep it coherent, too, because Mrs.
Moira interrupted her so often with little unnecessary questions.

"Did you really go to New York?"

"And 'twas all night you stayed at the Allendyces themselves?"

Because of her mother's agitation, Beryl abandoned the details with
which she had planned to lead up to the great surprise. She plunged
abruptly to the point of the story.

"Those beads. They _weren't_ just plain beads. They were a precious
necklace made by some queer people, ages and ages ago. _Queens_ have
worn 'em and all sorts of wicked people and they've gone from hand to
hand--I s'pose I ought to say neck to neck--for all these years and
then, suddenly, no one could find them. And Mr. Allendyce's friend--the
collector--gave me _this money_ outright for them and--"

Mrs. Lynch suddenly sprang to furious life. She stood erect, her eyes
flashing, her fingers working in and out, her lips trembling.

"You sold my--_you sold my beads!_ Beryl Lynch, how _dared_ you.
My--my--"

Beryl stared at her. She could not speak for sheer amazement.

"My beads! They--were--the last--thing--I--had that
held--me--to--my--dreams." Her voice died off in a heart-broken whisper
that h