Miss Timmens, her errand a failure, began folding up the shirt in a bustle, her thin face quite fiery with anger. Mrs. Todhetley shook her head; she did not approve of nonsensical notions for these poor peasant girls any more than did the rest of us. "I'll bring up the right shirt this evening when school's over; and if it suits we'll get on with the rest," concluded Miss Timmens, making her exit with the parcel. "What the world will come to later, Mr. Johnny, if these wild ideas get much ground, puzzles me to think of," resumed Miss Timmens, as I went with her, talking, along the garden-path. "We shall have no servants, sir; none. It does not stand to reason that a girl will work for her bread at menial offices when she has had fine notions instilled into her. Grammar, and geography, and history, and botany, and music, and singing, and fancy-work!--what good will they be of to her in making beds and cleaning saucepans? The upshot will be that they won't make beds and they won't clean saucepans; they'll be above it. The Lord protect 'em!--for I don't see what else will; or what will become of them. Or of the world, either, when it can get no servants. My goodness, Master Johnny! what's that? Surely it's the lost earring?" Close to the roots of a small fir-tree it lay: the earring that had caused so much vexation and hunting. I picked it up: its pink topaz and diamonds shone brightly as ever in the sun, and were quite uninjured. Mrs. Todhetley remembered then, though it had slipped her memory before, that in coming indoors after the interview with the woman at the gate, she had stopped to shake this fir-tree, bowed down almost to breaking with its weight of snow. The earring must have fallen from her ear then into the snow, and been hidden by it. Without giving himself time for a mouthful of lunch, the Squire tore away to the station through the mud, as fast as his legs would carry him, and thence to Worcester by train. What an unfortunate mistake it would be should that professional gentleman have been accused, who had bought something from the travelling pedlar! "Well, Cripp, here's a fine discovery!" panted the Squire, as he went bursting into the police-station and to the presence of Sergeant Cripp. "The lost earring has turned up." "I'm sure I am very glad to hear it," said the sergeant, facing round from a letter he was writing. "How has it been found?" And the Squire told him how. "It was not stolen at all, then?" "Not at all, Cripp. And the poor creature we suspected of taking it proves to be a very respectable old body indeed, nothing of the tramp about her. You--you have not gone any lengths yet with that professional gentleman, I hope!" added the Squire, dropping his voice to a confidential tone. Cripp paused for a minute, as if not understanding. "We have not employed any professional man at all in the matter," said he; "have not thought of doing so."