"But, Hilda, I wonder why Miriam didn't know it was in her box?" For a moment the woman was at a loss. Then she answered. "Well, that we don't know, Dicky. Perhaps she hid it there herself and forgot all about it, or perhaps Gerald put it there. That doesn't matter--we've found it, that's the great thing, and it will be such a surprise for both of them." "Oh yes, Hilda. I won't say a word about it, I promise." "That's a good boy. Now put away the work-box quickly, just as you found it, and don't tell Miriam even that you were playing with it." She kissed him, and slipped the deed into her dress. Dicky put back the trinkets and replaced the box. She felt she could rely on the boy's not betraying her, and she congratulated herself on the success of her plan. She could hear Miriam in the drawing-room now. Hurriedly she picked up a copy of the _Strand_ Magazine which Dicky had been looking at and gave it to him. "We must go to tea, Dicky. Come along, bring your book with you." At that moment Miriam called. "That boy's simply crazy about pictures," said Hilda, as she entered the room. "I can't get him away from them." She looked at Dicky hard. He seemed to understand--it was to him all part of a glorious surprise for Miriam. And the element of secrecy appealed to him irresistibly. "What's he got--the _Strand_ Magazine?" said Miriam, catching sight of the well-known cover. "Oh, that's Gerald's--he's never happy without his _Strand_." "It is an awfully jolly magazine, Miss Crane--I wish mother would get it." "Ah, here is Gerald," exclaimed Hilda, as at that moment he entered the room. "Speak of angels and you hear their wings." "That's dangerously suggestive of another phrase more often applied in the same circumstances--and rather more apt in this case too, I fancy!" With heightened colour he came forward and took her outstretched hand. He was quite unable to conceal his emotion at this unexpected meeting. "I didn't hear you come in, Gerald," said his wife in surprise. At the sound of her voice some of his self-possession returned to him. "No, I stole a march on you--unawares--got awfully sick of the office, so I chucked it for to-day." Miriam looked at him uneasily. This sort of thing was continually happening. She was thankful at least he was himself in other ways. "Well, Mrs. Dundas, I must certainly congratulate you--I don't know when I've seen you look so well." "Why don't you call her Hilda?" put in the convivial Dicky. "I hate Mrs. Dundas." "Do you? Well, you see, there are certain difficulties in the way, Dicky. In the first place we are all very much 'grown-up' now; indeed, I don't know that strictly speaking we oughtn't to call you 'Mr. Darrow.' Besides, if I were to call Mrs. Dundas by her Christian name, she might reprimand me severely."