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Lacy in charge. Armed with this information Tom sent off two telegrams, each reading as follows: "Look for missing diamond ring in Miss Harrow's red-ink inkwell. If found, answer at once. Thomas Rover, "Outlook Hotel, "New York City." "They were mighty funny telegrams to send," said Tom, when he rejoined his brothers in the hotel smoking room. "Perhaps they won't know what to make of them."
She wore a coat of gosling-green with facings of primrose-yellow, and when she fell and barked the knee of one stocking I took her to old Martha, and old Martha mended her. Her knee itself wasn't really hurt, but it was all rough and gritty from the asphalt. She didn't cry. And so I loved her. Why is she so long changing into outdoor things?" "Hush!" pearled Lord Harrow's daughter. "She's coming."
One suit was inlaid with enamel, black as ebony, and the other with red gold. The Poor Boy lifted his voice and called up the columned wall of the stair: "Anybody home!" Lord Harrow's daughter leaned over the rail. She had a very white face and very wonderful red hair. Her way of speaking always reminded the Poor Boy of pearls falling from a string one by one. "Joy Grey's just come," she said.
Nor was he in the habit of letting her look quite so pale or breathe so hard. But when she spoke he was troubled; not because the sound of her voice was an unusual sound for him to hear, but because in the present instance it was accompanied with distinct vibrations. And that had never happened since she came to stay with Lord Harrow's daughter. "Balking," she said, "has confessed!"
He stooped to pick it up, remembered, and let it lie. They looked into each other's eyes, very sadly. He saw her mistily through tears. She vanished. Vanished the rose garden, vanished Lord Harrow's house. And remained only a wild lake, an open space in which he stood, and wild-woods, and beyond more woods and hills and mountains.
'He won't be with you much longer, I suppose? 'Perhaps a week. Before Miss Harrow's departure Maud and Dora reached home. They were curious to see the young lady from the valley of the shadow of books, and gladly accepted the invitation offered them. They set out on the following afternoon in their brother's company.
I have it, she's a guest of Lord Harrow's daughter, and they've just moved into Harrow Hall. That's the new Georgian House, on Lilly Pond...." "When I was in New York I saw Miss Joy." "You did!" "She was prettier than any picture. She come up and give me both hands and says: 'Why, Martha! And then we talked. And she never believed you did it, never!" "Ah! She might have written!"
"Well, if you've got to know the truth, I'll tell you," growled the man, staring unsteadily at the boys. "It's in Miss Harrow's inkwell." "Miss Harrow's inkwell!" repeated Tom, incredulously. "Did you put it there?" questioned Sam. "I did." "Well, why in the world did you do that?" asked Tom, and made no effort to conceal his wonder. "Why did I do it?" mumbled the man, unsteadily.
While the Rectory at Lapton was having its roof repaired, its walls painted, and the fungus that grew in the cupboards of old Canon Harrow's bedroom removed, the Considines were housed at Halberton and instructed in the family tradition. In the case of Dr.
Murray," he entreats, "not to allow his shopman to call the work 'Child of Harrow's Pilgrimage, as he has done to some of my astonished friends, who wrote to inquire after my sanity on the occasion, as well they might."
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