The last words were intended as a sarcasm, and were whispered into Valentine’s ear. He understood the allusion to their private conversation together easily enough; and felt that unless he let her have her own way without further contest, he must risk offending an old friend by implying a mistrust of her, which would be simply ridiculous, under the circumstances in which they were placed. So, when his wife nodded to him to take advantage of the offer just made, he accepted it forthwith. “Now, I’ll stop his giving Mary a Hair Bracelet!” thought Mrs. Peckover, as she bustled out after young Thorpe, and closed the room door behind her. “Wait a bit, young gentleman,” she said, arresting his further progress on the first landing. “Just leave off talking a minute, and let me speak. I’ve got something to say to you. Do you really mean to give Mary that Hair Bracelet?” “Oho! then you did hear something at the card-table about it, after all?” said Zack. “Mean? Of course I mean--” “And you want to put some of my hair in it?” “To be sure I do! Madonna wouldn’t like it without.” “Then you had better make up your mind at once to give her some other present; for not one morsel of my hair shall you have. There now! what do you think of that?” “I don’t believe it, my old darling.” “It’s true enough, I can tell you. Not a hair of my head shall you have.” “Why not?” “Never mind why. I’ve got my own reasons.” “Very well: if you come to that, I’ve got my reasons for giving the bracelet; and I mean to give it. If you won’t let any of your hair be plaited up along with the rest, it’s Madonna you will disappoint--not me.” Mrs. Peckover saw that she must change her tactics, or be defeated. “Don’t you be so dreadful obstinate, Master Zack, and I’ll tell you the reason,” she said in an altered tone, leading the way lower down into the passage. “I don’t want you to give her a Hair Bracelet, because I believe it will bring ill-luck to her--there!” Zack burst out laughing. “Do you call that a reason? Who ever heard of a Hair Bracelet being an unlucky gift?” At this moment, the door of Mrs. Blyth’s room opened. “Anything wrong with the lock?” asked Valentine from above. He was rather surprised at the time that elapsed without his hearing the house-door shut. “All quite right, sir,” said Mrs. Peckover; adding in a whisper to Zack:--“Hush! don’t say a word!” “Don’t let him keep you in the cold with his nonsense,” said Valentine. “My nonsense!--” began Zack, indignantly. “He’s going, sir,” interrupted Mrs. Peckover. “I shall be upstairs in a moment.” “Come in, dear, pray! You’re letting all the cold air into the room,” exclaimed the voice of Mrs. Blyth. The door of the room closed again. “What _are_ you driving at?” asked Zack, in extreme bewilderment.