"Ah, that I can’t tell you; but, any way, Ma got to hear of it, and she told me to put a stop to it, and so you’d better be careful, that’s all." And never for a moment did Flossie suspect that some blades are so sharp that they can cut two ways, and that her informant was quite as clever at carrying tales to one side as to the other. Ah! but blundering, boisterous Flossie was not nearly so astute as Mrs. Stubbs’s right hand--May. When they had come from Bridgehampton Mrs. Stubbs had only brought her own box and one which contained Sarah’s modest wardrobe with them. Her father’s pictures and the precious Amati, with one or two bits of old carved oak, a chair, a table, a little chest, and a stool, with one or two bits of armour and a few pieces of very good china, were all packed and sent off by goods train. They arrived that afternoon, and Mrs. Stubbs had them all unpacked, and declared her intention of putting them into the little bedroom which, after they came back from Brighton, should be Sarah’s own. "They’re lovely things, and belong to the child herself, and it’s right she should have them kept for ’er, you know, Stubbs." "Quite right, quite right," returned Mr. Stubbs promptly, and turning to see the effect of his wife’s consideration on Sarah, whose character he was studying earnestly and diligently for the purpose of finding out whether any taint of what he called her "fine gentleman father" was about her. But Sarah was quite oblivious. She had got hold of her beloved violin, from which she had never been parted before in all her life, and was dusting it jealously with her little pocket-handkerchief. Mrs. Stubbs saw the look and understood it "The child didn’t ’ear," she explained; and having attracted Sarah’s attention, told her what her plans were for her future comfort. "You’ll like that, won’t you?" she ended. Sarah’s reply was as astounding as it was prompt. "Oh, no, dear Auntie, not at all," she said earnestly. "And why not?" Mrs. Stubbs inquired, while her husband stared as if he thought the world might be coming to an end. "Why, Auntie, didn’t you say your own self how beautiful they were, and how well they would set off a hall? I’d much rather you’d put them downstairs than in a bedroom, for you would see them every time you went in and out, and that _would_ please me." "There’s unselfishness for you!" Mrs. Stubbs cried. "No, Auntie. I don’t think it is," said Sarah in her sweet, humble voice. "It’s nothing so grand as unselfishness; it’s just because I love you." "Kiss me, my woman," cried Mrs. Stubbs with rapture. "And come and kiss _me_," said Mr. Stubbs. "You’re a good girl, Sarah, your mother’s own daughter. She was right, my lass, to stick to the husband she loved and married, though I never thought so till this moment."