Every morning Mavis asked him for the boxes, and each time he either pretended to have forgotten or was ready with some excuse. At the end of four days, however, he took her into the old harness-room, where he had a joiner's bench and a variety of tools, for he acted handy man to the establishment. "How will these suit you, Miss?" he enquired, in a would-be nonchalant tone. Mavis gave an absolute bounce of surprise. There on the bench lay two most beautiful cases. Tom had planed the boxes and made lids for them, into which he had fitted the pieces of glass. They were stained brown and varnished, and were lined neatly with dark-blue cloth. The old man was evidently bursting with pride at his handiwork, though he affected an attitude of indifference. Mavis made haste to congratulate him. "It's the cleverest thing I've ever seen done in my life," she purred. "Oh, they're just too lovely for words--absolutely topping! Thanks, a thousand times over. You must have simply _slaved_ to finish them so quickly." "Oh, I just worked at them in odds and ends of my time," said Tom casually, looking very pleased all the same. "That varnish is a bit sticky yet, but I dare say it'll be dry by the morning. If you want the boxes at school I'll carry them round for you to-morrow some time." "Oh, thanks! Could you bring them at eleven o'clock 'break'? That would be scrumptious. I must fetch Merle to look at them at once, and Jessop too. You don't mind?" Tom delivered the cases next day with admirable punctuality; indeed he was standing on the school doorstep exactly as Miss Fanny rang the big bell for break. The girls, pouring into the hall, saw him deliver the treasures into the safe custody of Bella, the housemaid. Naturally they crowded round to look. "Hello! What are these for?" asked Opal. "What stunning cases!" "They're for Miss Ramsay," proclaimed Bella. Mavis, with rather a red face, stepped forward. "If you think they'll do to keep the birds' eggs and butterflies and things in will you please have them as a museum for the school," she said quickly. "Tom, my uncle's coachman, made them on purpose." "Jolly decent of him. They're A1," approved Opal. "Better than the desks really, because of the glass lids. I say, I'm going to bolt my lunch in two secs, and get down those boxes and spread out the collection again. The things will look no end on that dark cloth." "Spiffing," agreed Iva, who was also inspecting the new acquisitions.