Other visitors were staying in the house. A Miss Deveen, and her companion Miss Cattledon. We saw them first at dinner. Miss Deveen sat by Sir John--an ancient lady, active and upright, with a keen, pleasant face and white hair. She had on a worked-muslin shirt-front, with three emerald studs in it that glittered as bright as diamonds. They were beautiful. After dinner, when the four old ones began whist, and we were at the other end of the drawing-room in a group, some one spoke of the studs. "They are nothing compared with some of her jewellery," said Helen Whitney. "She has a whole set of most beautiful diamonds. I hardly know what they are worth." "But those emeralds she has on to-night must be of great value," cried Sophie Chalk. "See how they sparkle!" It made us all turn. As Miss Deveen moved in throwing down her cards, the rays from the wax-lights fell on the emeralds, bringing out the purest green ever imagined by a painter. "I should like to steal them," said Sophie Chalk; "they would look well on me." It made us laugh. Tod had his eyes fixed on her, a strange love in their depths. Anna Whitney, kneeling on the ground behind me, could see it. "I would rather steal a set of pink topaz studs that she has," spoke Helen; "and the opals, too. Miss Deveen is great in studs." "Why in studs?" "Because she always wears this sort of white body; it is her habitual evening dress, with satin skirts. I know she has a different set of studs for every day in the month." "Who is she?" asked Sophie Chalk. "A cousin of mamma's. She has a great deal of money, and no one in particular to leave it to. Harry says he hopes she'll remember, in making her will, that he is only a poor younger son." "Just you shut up, Helen," interrupted Harry, in a whisper. "I believe that companion has ears at the back of her head." Miss Cattledon glanced round from the whist-table, as though the ears were there and wide open. She was a wiry lady of middle age, quite forty, with a screwed-in waist and creaking stays, a piece of crimson velvet round her long thin neck, her scanty hair light as ginger. "It is she that has charge of the jewel-box," spoke Helen, when we thought it safe to begin again. "Miss Deveen is a wonderful old lady for sixty; she has come here without a maid this time, and dresses herself. I don't see what use Miss Cattledon is to her, unless it is to act as general refrigerator, but she gets a hundred a year salary and some of the old satins. Sophie, I'm sure she heard what we said--that we should like to steal the trinkets." "Hope she relished it!" quoth Harry. "She'll put them under double lock and key, for fear we should break in." It was all jesting. Amid the subdued laughing, Tod bent his face over Sophie Chalk, his hand touching the lace on her sleeve. She had on blue to-night with a pearl necklace. "Will you sing that song for me, Miss Chalk?" She rose and took his arm. Helen jumped up and arrested them ere they reached the piano.