If looks could kill, the coachman would have been exterminated on the spot. Scowling savagely, Strelitzki bade him hold his tongue, for the child had fallen asleep, and he did not wish her to be awakened. With more gentleness than was his custom, he lifted her out of the chaise, and, unlocking the cottage door, laid her carefully down on the couch. Then he returned to the wicket, and informed the coachman that he might consider himself dismissed. Roberts, however, was apparently not quite satisfied. “’Ere, where’s the kid’s mother?” he asked again. “My mistress said I was to see that the little girl was all right. She has cut her foot, and has got to lay up. You ain’t any relation, are you?” “Yes; I am her uncle,” the man replied briefly. “Rachael Horwitz has told me all about the accident. She ought not to have sent such a little thing so far on an errand. She’s got slipper-work at the factory, so you’ll have to leave the child with me.” And without further remark, Roberts drove away. Strelitzki bolted the door after him, and quietly moved to where the child lay. She was still fast asleep, but stirred uneasily as he watched her. Fearing that the light might awaken her, Jacob carefully shut the lattice. His movement suggested mystery; but all his caution was for the purpose of performing an apparently trivial action. Taking a small packet out of his coat-pocket, he cut the string and unfolded the tissue-paper. Inside lay a tiny crucifix composed of black wood and nickel silver--truly a strange emblem to be in his possession. From another pocket he produced a piece of slightly-faded blue ribbon. Then twisting the ribbon through the ring at the top of the crucifix, he tied it securely round Blume’s neck, tucking it under her pinafore. This accomplished, he gave a sigh--which was almost a chuckle--of relief. The action disturbed the child, who awoke with a feeble cry of pain. For the moment she could not quite take in her surroundings, and blinked at the daylight in bewilderment. When she recollected what had happened, she began to cry, fearing her mother’s anger on account of the broken bottle of oil; but her uncle assured her that the accident had been explained, and that her mother would be back directly, grieved to find her in pain. Strelitzki lit his pipe and professed to read the newspaper; at the same time watching the little girl out of the corner of his eye. Her feet still smarted painfully, and she moved her position frequently in order to obtain greater ease. In doing so, the crucifix slipped out, and hung suspended from her neck above her pinafore. “Hello!” exclaimed Strelitzki. “Where did you get that?”