"Isn't it a beauty, Bunny," said Henriette the next morning, as she held up the tiara to my admiring gaze, a flashing, coruscating bit of the jeweler's art that, I verily believe, would have tempted the soul of honor itself into rascally ways. "Magnificent!" I asserted. "But which is this, the forty-eight-dollar one or the original?" "The original," said Henriette, caressing the bauble.