“Where did you get it?” Azalea asked tensely. “I took it away from Wags,” Doris informed her. “It must have been buried under that bush.” “But why was it put there?” Iris murmured. “I can’t understand it.” “I thought perhaps it might have been a family jewel,” Doris suggested. “Oh, no,” Azalea protested. “I never saw the ring before in my life.” “Isn’t there any clue as to the identity of the owner?” Kitty questioned. “There doesn’t seem to be,” Doris responded. She lifted the ring from the tiny case and as she did so, noticed for the first time a scrap of paper, yellowed with age. She read the name on it at a glance and a startled expression came into her eyes. “It says ‘John,’” she said in a strained voice. “John!” Echoing the name, Azalea began to tremble. Iris’s face had gone chalk white. Doris had turned the paper over and was reading something upon the back. The twins scarcely heard her. “To my beloved sweetheart,” the note said, “the one I have chosen to be my wife. This ring is a sign of my decision. Please wear it always.” “He _did_ choose,” Doris declared tensely. Azalea and Iris stood as motionless as statues. “But which one?” Azalea murmured. Doris looked again at the message. It was so old and yellow that it was difficult to make out the writing, but unquestionably neither of the twins had been mentioned by name. Her silence communicated this to the others. “If only we had known—” Iris murmured brokenly. “What a difference it might have made. That fatal night when Father—” She choked and could not go on. “It’s the most beautiful ring I ever saw,” Kitty declared. She restrained her enthusiasm, noting that it seemed to pain the Misses Gates. “Of course it belongs to you,” Doris said quietly, “even though your names aren’t mentioned.” She extended the ring toward the two ladies. Iris straightened proudly and Azalea turned coldly away. “It doesn’t belong to me,” she said tartly. “I won’t touch it!” Iris declared indignantly. “But it must belong to one of you,” Doris insisted. “What shall we do with it?” Azalea was already walking rapidly toward the house. Iris, as pale as a ghost and looking as though she were about to cry, likewise turned away. “I don’t care what you do with it,” she said. “I’ll never touch it as long as I live!” Doris and Kitty, left in possession of the ring, stared at it rather blankly. “Well, of all things!” Kitty exclaimed. “Do you think they’ll change their minds?” “I’m afraid not. This note and the ring have opened up old wounds. Now they’ll always be tortured by thinking of what might have been.” Being hampered by no sentimental attachments themselves, the girls each tried on the ring. It was too large for Kitty but it fit Doris’s third finger. “The setting is certainly old fashioned,” Kitty commented, “but can’t you imagine how gorgeous it would look in a modern one! I think the Misses Gates are foolish not to want it.”