"Wonderful. Thank you; then we'll certainly have toast." When they were all seated, Portia said: "I brought a present, too, Aunt Minnehaha." Mrs. Cheever opened the package eagerly. _Voluta imperialis_ was a lovely thing: buff, tinged with pink. It was gracefully turned, and on top of it there was a circle of little points that gave it a crowned look. Mrs. Cheever was enchanted. She clasped her thin hands, and the wintry pink came into her cheeks. "Oh, Portia, what a beautiful shell! I can't tell you how it pleases me. No, indeed I can't." She lifted it to her ear, listening, looking thoughtful, looking far away. She smiled to herself. "Once a sea shell saved my life," she said. "At least I think it did." "Tell!" demanded Portia. "_Please_," Julian added severely. "Yes, _please_." "I never saw the ocean as a child, you know. I never saw any kind of salt water. We lived in town all winter, and in the summer we were always here at Tarrigo (as it was called then), and we asked nothing better. "Now, the summer I was eleven years old--just your age, Portia--" "Except I'm eleven and a half," Portia reminded her. "Yes, well, _almost_ your age--I came down with typhoid fever. I know how I got it, too, though no one else did, except for Baby-Belle Tuckertown. "_That_ summer a terrible thing happened to Baby-Belle; a governess was engaged to take care of her! A French governess called Mamzelle. (We children thought that was her real name: 'Mamzelle,' just like 'Edith' or 'Alice' or 'Ethel.') She was a short-tempered woman, spare and tall, with an oblong nose, rather red, and cheekbones that looked varnished. She wore glasses attached to a chain, and she never took her eyes off Baby-Belle. Oh, Baby-Belle was just like a bird in a cage! I felt sorry for her, yes, indeed I did. And besides it was no fun to be with her any more because Mamzelle was always there, too. "Poor Baby-Belle! She had always been a free, happy, willful girl: a regular tomboy, full of ginger! She could throw a ball as well as a boy (almost). She could climb trees like a wild ape of the jungle and swim like a fish! _She_ didn't care if her garter broke and her stocking went shriveling down her leg. _She_ didn't care if she lost her hair ribbon. I declare, by the end of summer Tarrigo was littered with Baby-Belle's lost hair ribbons!... She didn't show one single solitary sign that she would ever grow up to be a young lady. No, indeed she did not. "So I suppose all that worried her dainty little mother--Mrs. Tuckertown was very small and dainty--but it was Mrs. _Tuckertown's_ mother, that bossy old Mrs. Ravenel, who was responsible for hiring Mamzelle, I'll be bound.