"I know," went on the lady, "that it was Rodney himself who named him, but--" "Come, now, marmer," the boy interrupted, impatiently, "you always say that." "Here's a letter from Prudence at last." It was the girl who spoke, now looking up at her mother. "Read it to me, dear," was the response. But it was some moments before the mother and son could finish the altercation now entered into as to who should have charge of the ring until such time as it could be returned to the owner. Mrs. Ffolliott succeeded in gaining permission, Leander perceiving that the article would be safer in her care. But he cautioned her not to expect any share of the reward. Then he walked out of sight to some region momentarily unknown to his parent, and peace reigned on the piazza. Mrs. Ffolliott sat down in the chair and placidly waited. Carolyn stood leaning against the wall of the house. The open letter hung from her hand. "That new man hasn't brought back the veranda chairs since he swept here," now remarked Mrs. Ffolliott. "I wish you'd tell him--" "Yes, I will, presently," replied the girl. "Shall I read this to you now? She's coming home." "Coming home!" "Yes. Here's what she says: 'My dear old fellow--'" "Does she call you that?" interrupted Mrs. Ffolliott. There was a slight smile on the girl's face as she answered: "Yes; she seems to mean me." "Oh, dear! Well, it's just like her. But then, anything is just like her. Go on, please." "'My dear old fellow,'" again began Carolyn, "'I suppose there is stuff that martyrs are made of, but none of that stuff got into my make-up, so I don't mean ever to pose for that sort of thing. That is, never again; but I've been doing it for the last four weeks. "'You see, mamma would have me stay with her at Carlsbad. It has seemed as if I should die. And how horrid you would feel if you should have to tell people, "My dear cousin Prudence died at Carlsbad." Because, you see, they don't die at Carlsbad; they hustle off somewhere to die and be buried. And if I should give up the ghost here I should be thought quite odd. But I shouldn't care for that. Only I want to live, and I mean to. That's why I'm not going to stand it. "'There hasn't been a man here that it would pay to speak to, much less to look at. I might just as well have been a nurse. I shouldn't have been so bored, for if I had really been one that knowledge would have sort of upheld me,--at least I think it would.