Stephenson remembered the transaction perfectly. He had stood by while his principal showed and sold the brooch to Mrs. Todhetley. Four only of these brooches had been sent to them on approval by their London agent, they were something quite new. Mrs. Todhetley admired them greatly; said she wanted to make a wedding present to a young lady about to be married, but had not meant to give as much as four guineas. However, the beauty of the brooch tempted her; she bought it, and took it home. Stephenson's silence, while he was recalling this to his memory, caused the gentleman to think his word was doubted, and he entered into further particulars. "It was last March, I think," he said. "The brooch is a rather large one; a white cornelian stone, or something of that sort, with a raised spray of flowers upon it, pink and gold; the whole surrounded by a border of gold filagree work. I never saw a nicer brooch." "Yes, yes, sir, it was just as you say; I recollect it all quite well. Mrs. Todhetley bought it to give away as a wedding present." "And the wedding never came off," said the young man, with ease. "Before she had time to despatch the brooch, news came to her of the rupture.--So she had to keep it herself: and the best thing too, the Squire said. Well, it is that brooch I have come for." "But I assure you it has not been left with us, Mr. Todhetley," said Stephenson, presuming he was speaking to the Squire's son. "The little pink flower got broken off last week as Mrs. Todhetley was undoing her shawl; she brought it in at once to be mended," persisted the young man. "But not here indeed, sir," reiterated Stephenson. "I'm sorry to hear it is broken." "She wouldn't take it anywhere but to the place it was bought at, would she? I'm sure it was here I had to come for it." Stephenson felt all abroad. He did not think it likely the brooch would be taken elsewhere, and began to wonder whether his master had taken it in, and forgotten all about it. Opening a shallow drawer or two in the counter, in one of which articles for repair were put, in the other the repaired articles when finished, he searched both, but could not see the brooch. This took him some little time, as most of the things were in paper and he had to undo it. Meanwhile the applicant amused himself by looking at the articles displayed under the glass frame on the counter. He seemed to be rather struck with some very pretty pencils. "Are those pencils gold?" he inquired of Stephenson, when the latter came forward with the news that the brooch was certainly not in the shop. "No, sir; they are silver gilt." Lifting the glass lid, Stephenson took out the tray on which the pencils and other things lay, and put it right under the young man's nose, in the persuasive manner peculiar to shopmen. The pencils were chased richly enough for gold, and had each a handsome stone at the end, which might or might not be real. "What is the price?"