“I’ve—well, I’ve taken upon myself to bring you a small talisman. You won’t be angry with me?” “I think it is very nice of you.” “And you’ll accept it?” eagerly. “What is it?” turning to the coals again. Ted took a little parcel from his pocket, and unfolded a very valuable old gold coin with a hole in it. “It’s a lucky coin,” he said. “I noticed you had a chain bracelet and I thought, perhaps, you wouldn’t mind letting me fix it on for you. It’s rather a rare one. My father was a great collector, and it used to belong to him.” “Oh! but you mustn’t give it to me then,” she cried. “Yes, I want to,” firmly, “and I am going to fix it on myself.” She gave him her bracelet, impelled by some unseen force, and watched him silently while he carefully fixed the coin to one of the links. A little while afterward he wrung her hand, looked a whole world of love into her eyes, and hurried away. When Paddy was alone, she became unusually thoughtful, and fingered the coin gently. Then for the first time she discovered something had been engraved on it, and held it curiously to the light. In small writing, across the centre, were the two words, “Dinna forget,” and underneath the date of the morrow when his ship would sail. “Poor Ted,” murmured Paddy softly, and a little flush crept into her white cheeks. CHAPTER XXVIII The New Home. It was not until March, when Paddy had been in London over two months, that her mother and Eileen joined her. By that time she and the doctor had the furniture all in place and everything ready. A letter Paddy received the last day rather surprised her. “Do not meet us,” Eileen wrote, “nor wait at uncle’s for us. We particularly want to receive you in our own little home, and shall be eagerly watching for you about six o’clock.” Paddy thought it rather queer, but fell in with their wishes, and went off as usual to her classes. When she reached home in the evening Eileen was watching at the little front bow-window and flew to the door, her mother following closely, and none of the three knew quite whether to laugh or cry, they were all so glad and so sad together. “It’s just good to have a home again,” said Paddy, and bustled into the little sitting-room while her mother and Eileen exchanged glances. No sooner had she entered than she gave a cry of delight, for there, on each side of the fireplace, in their usual manner, sat the two aunties. The next moment they were both pleading for mercy in stifled tones beneath her vigorous hugs. “You dear, _dear_, dear aunties!” she cried; “to come all this long way at such a cold time of year. How I just love you both! I shall have to go on hugging you all the evening. However did you make up your minds to come?” “Well, you see, dear,” said Aunt Jane, “we could never have rested content without being quite sure you were all as comfortable as circumstances would permit, and so we felt the only thing to do was to come and see for ourselves.”