"Yes; young ass! He played a low-down practical joke upon me a few weeks ago; and I am glad to say he was convalescent enough to be able to receive the piece of my mind which I offered him before I left Naples." Rupert laughed rather grimly; then said quickly: "However, Layton and his practical joke are immaterial now. Tell me about Miss Moore. You say Sir Arthur accuses her of stealing? It sounds a preposterous notion." "My dear Rupert, Cousin Arthur is nothing if not preposterous, and the worst of it is, that this time he has some sort of method in his madness. It seems perfectly obvious, that Christina was wearing a pendant that had belonged to Cousin Ellen; and they accuse her of having stolen it." Cicely next proceeded to tell in full the story of the accusation and its results, and Rupert listened in silence, until she had finished. Then he said slowly-- "But no girl in her senses would flaunt a stolen thing in the faces of the people from whom she stole it. Common sense might have told Sir Arthur that elementary fact." "He doesn't know the meaning of common sense," Cicely exclaimed. "He made up his mind Christina was the young woman who was in the train, and stole the pendant from Cousin Ellen's bag, and you might as well try to shake Mont Blanc down, as alter Cousin Arthur's fixed convictions. He frightened Christina out of her wits with threats of the police, and she ran away." "Pity she did that," Rupert said tersely. "She would have been wiser to face it out; and I can't believe she can be guilty. It is impossible to connect guilt with her." As he spoke, he saw a mental picture of a low, fire-lit room, a girlish face uplifted to his in the dancing light of the flames, sweet eyes full of sympathy, a mouth just curved into a smile, that made him think vaguely of the way his mother had smiled at him, though the girl herself was such a bit of a thing, and so young. "I can't think of her as guilty," he repeated. "Of course you can't," Cicely said impatiently. "I should as soon believe I was a thief myself, as believe Christina to be one. Don't imagine I doubt her. I never doubted her for a moment. Only--I wish she hadn't gone away; and I wish I knew where she had gone." Rupert's face grew grave. "Has she any friends or relations to whom she would be likely to go?" "I am afraid not. You know she was rather a waif and stray, when I first engaged her as Baba's nurse. You were doubtful then about my wisdom in taking her with practically no references. But she has been invaluable with Baba; and I have learnt to care for her, too. She is such a dear soul!" "A restful soul," Rupert said dreamily; and, as Cicely stared at him in surprise, a little look of embarrassment crossed his face. "I saw her at Graystone, when I went to call upon Baba," he said, trying to speak lightly, because of the surprise in Cicely's glance; "she seemed to be just the sort of restful, cheery nurse you would want for a child."