Eleanor did not speak, and Emily, who had the little boy in her arms, went on talking to him: ‘Come, baby, let us persuade mamma to let you stay with Aunt Emily. Ask papa, Henry, won’t you? Seriously, Eleanor, has Frank considered how much better it would be to have him in the country?’ ‘He has, Emily; he once wished much to leave him here.’ ‘I am sure grandpapa would like it,’ said Emily. ‘Do you observe, Eleanor, how fond he is of baby, always calling him Harry too, as if he liked the sound of the name?’ ‘It has all been talked over, Emily, and it cannot be.’ ‘With papa?’ asked Emily in surprise. ‘No, with Lily.’ ‘With Lily!’ exclaimed Emily. ‘Did not Aunt Lily wish to keep you, Harry? I thought she was very fond of you.’ ‘You had better inquire no further,’ said Eleanor, ‘except of your own conscience.’ ‘Did Lily think us unfit to take care of him?’ asked Emily, in surprise. As she spoke Lily herself came in, the key of the storeroom in her hand, and looks of consternation on her face. She came to announce a terrible deficiency in the preserved quinces, which she herself had carefully put aside on a shelf in the storeroom, and which Emily said she had not touched in her absence. ‘Let me see,’ said Eleanor, rising, and setting off to the storeroom; Emily and Lily followed, with a sad suspicion of the truth. On the way they looked into the nursery, to give little Henry to his nurse, and to ask Jane, who was sitting with Ada, what she remembered about it. Jane knew nothing, and they went on to the storeroom, where Eleanor, quite in her element, began rummaging, arranging, and sighing over the confusion, while Lily lent a helping hand, and Emily stood by, wishing that her sister would not trouble herself. Presently Jane came running up with a saucer in her hand, containing a quarter of a quince and some syrup, which she said she had found in the nursery cupboard, in searching for a puzzle which Ada wanted. ‘And,’ said Jane, ‘I should guess that Miss Ada herself knew something about it, for when I could not find the puzzle in the right-hand cupboard, she was so very unwilling that I should look into that one; she said there was nothing there but the boys’ old playthings and Esther’s clothes. And I do not know whether you saw how she fidgeted when you were talking about the quinces, before you went up.’ ‘It is much too plain,’ sighed Lily. ‘Oh! Rachel, why did we not listen to you?’ ‘Do you suppose,’ said Eleanor, ‘that Ada has been in the habit of taking the key and helping herself?’ ‘No,’ said Emily, ‘but that Esther has helped her.’ ‘Ah!’ said Eleanor, ‘I never thought it wise to take her, but how could she get the key? You do not mean that you trusted it out of your own keeping.’ ‘It began while we were ill,’ faltered Emily, ‘and afterwards it was difficult to bring matters into their former order.’ ‘But oh, Eleanor, what is to be done?’ sighed Lily.