‘Pretty well, but I will send up one of the men or maids to tidy it before Barbara comes home. Behind an old broken winnowing machine—fancy a winnowing machine up there!—and under a pile of old pans and bottomless crocks is a chest, to which I got with infinite trouble, and not till I was very hot and dirty. I found it was locked, but the rust had eaten through the hinges, or the nails fastening them; and after working the lid about awhile I was able to lift it. What do you suppose I found inside?’ ‘I cannot guess.’ ‘No, I am sure you cannot. Wait—go on with your gardening. I will bring you one of my treasures.’ She darted into the house, and after a few minutes, Jasper heard a tinkling as of brass. Then Eve danced out to him, laughing and shaking a tambourine. ‘I suppose it belonged to you or Miss Jordan when you were children, and was stowed away under the mistaken impression that you had outgrown toys.’ ‘No, Mr. Jasper, it never belonged to either Barbara or me. I never had one. Barbara gave me everything of her own I wanted. I could not have forgotten this. I would have played with it till I had broken the parchment, and shaken out all the little bells.’ ‘Give it to me. I will tighten the parchment, and then you can drum on it with your fingers.’ He took the instrument from her, and strained the cover. ‘Do you know, Miss Eve, how to use a tambourine?’ ‘No. I shake it, and then all the little bells tingle.’ ‘Yes, but you also tap the drum. You want music as an accompaniment, and to that you dance with this toy.’ ‘How do you mean?’ ‘I will show you how I have seen it played by Italian and gipsy girls.’ He took the tambourine, and singing a lively dance air, struck the drum and clinked the brasses. He danced before Eve gravely, with graceful movements. ‘That is it!’ cried Eve, with eyes that flashed with delight, and with feet that itched to dance. ‘Oh, give it me back. I understand thoroughly now, thank you, thank you so heartily, dear Mr. Jasper. And now—I have not done. Come up into the garret when I call.’ ‘What for? To help you to make more rummage, and find more toys?’ ‘No! I want you to push the winnowing machine back, and to make order in the litter I have created.’ Jasper nodded good-humouredly. Then Eve, rattling her tambourine over her head, ran in; and Jasper resumed his work at the flower-beds. Barbara’s heliotrope, from which she so often wore a fragrant flower, had not been planted many weeks. It was straggling, and needed pinning down. Her seedling asters had not been pricked out in a bed, and they were crowding each other in their box. He took them out and divided their interlaced roots. ‘Mr. Jasper!’ A little face was peeping out of the small window in the gable that lighted the attic. He looked up, waved his hand, and laid down the young asters with a sigh, but covered their roots with earth before leaving them.