"Yes, but I shall never want to sell my ring," I replied somewhat proudly. Then I bade Susan a hearty good-bye and returned to Oxford Street. I had some idea of calling on Mr Gray, of taking him into my confidence, of asking him to advise me as to the best means of becoming a pupil at the Slade School. But I abandoned this idea for the present, and decided to take the next train home to my mother. Before doing this I went into Peter Robinson's, and purchased two yards of delicate pearl-grey ribbon to put in her best cap. "Sweet, pretty mother!" I said to myself. "How I should like to buy real Honiton lace to trim that cap, and a pearl-grey silk dress to match this ribbon; and how I should love to give her the daintiest food and the most beautiful luxurious home, and to take away that coarse darning, and that rough horrid mending, and that grinding poverty for ever." I could do a great deal if I sold Cousin Geoffrey's ring. A great deal, but not all, and I must not part in a hurry with a legacy which was not only beautiful, but had such a substantial money-value. I popped my bit of ribbon, therefore, into my pocket, looked sadly at the few remaining shillings in my purse, and took the next train back to Thorpdale. I arrived at Ivy Lodge in time for an afternoon cup of tea with my mother. I was very hungry, for I had not ventured on the extravagance of lunch in town, and while I ate, I regaled her with the account of my morning's adventures. She was by no means astonished when she heard that the old Jew dealer had offered me one hundred and fifty pounds for the ring. "It is worth a good deal more than that," she said. "I know the centre ruby has been priced at a very high figure by more than one connoisseur. Nevertheless, you are not going to sell the ring, are you, Rosamund?" "It would pay my expenses at the Slade," I said somewhat mischievously. My mother was about to reply when we were both startled by hearing the sound of a latch-key in the hall-door lock. I opened the door of the little drawing-room and peeped out. "Jack!" I exclaimed. "What has brought you back at this hour?" "My headache is worse," he replied, "I could not stay in town, so I came home." "Oh, I am sorry," I said. "Mother, Jack has come home with a bad headache." My mother stepped into the hall. "You are looking very ill indeed," she exclaimed. Jack growled in that peculiarly ungracious way which always drove me wild when it was addressed to our mother. "I am not ill," he said. "What a fuss women make! I have just got a beastly headache." "Come into the drawing-room, and have a cup of tea, my dear boy." "I could not sit up, thank you, mother. I'll go to my room, and see what a stretch on the bed and a nap will do for me. If Rosamund likes to be good-natured, she can bring me up some tea in half an hour."