At half-past twelve the Purdys returned, and at one o'clock the motor car brought its load from the village. "Well, well, Mr. Bowen, how do you do?" the hostess greeted them as they arrived. "And dear Mrs. Bowen, come right in and lay off your bonnet." The wide hall, with its tables, chairs and mirrors offered ample accommodations for hats and wraps, and soon the party were seated on the front part of the broad verandah that encircled three sides of the house. Mr. Bowen was stout and jolly and his slim shadow of a wife acted as a sort of Greek chorus, agreeing with and echoing his remarks and opinions. Conversation was in a gay and bantering key, and Mrs. Pell was in high good humor. Indeed, she seemed nervously excited and a little hysterical, but this was not entirely unusual, and her guests fitted their mood to hers. A chance remark led to mention of Mrs. Pell's great fortune of jewels, and Mr. Bowen declared that he fully expected she would bequeath them all to his church to be made into a wonderful chalice. "Not a bad idea," exclaimed Ursula Pell; "and one I've never thought of! I'll get Mr. Chapin over here to-morrow to change my will." "Who will be the loser?" asked the rector. "To whom are they willed at present?" "That's telling," and Mrs. Pell smiled mysteriously. "Don't forget you've promised me the wonderful diamond pin, auntie," said Iris, bristling up a little. "What diamond pin?" asked Mrs. Bowen, curiously. "Oh, for years, Aunt Ursula has promised me a marvelous diamond pin, the most valuable of her whole collection--haven't you, auntie?" "Yes, Iris," and Mrs. Pell nodded her head, "that pin is certainly the most valuable thing I possess." "It must be a marvel, then," said Mr. Bowen, his eyes opening wide, "for I've heard great tales of the Pell collection. I thought they were all unset jewels." "Most of them are," Mrs. Pell spoke carelessly, "but the pin I shall leave to Iris----" At that moment dinner was announced, and the group went to the dining room. This large and pleasant room was in front on the right, and back of it were the pantries and kitchens. A long rear extension provided the servants' quarters, which were numerous and roomy. The house was comfortable rather than pretentious, and though the village folk wondered why so rich a woman continued to live in such an old-fashioned home, those who knew her well realized that the place exactly met Ursula Pell's requirements. The dinner was in harmony with the atmosphere of the home. Plentiful, well-cooked food there was, but no attempt at elaborate confections or any great formality of service. One concession to modernity was a small dish of stuffed dates at each cover, and of these Mrs. Pell spoke in scornful tones. "Some of Iris' foolishness," she observed. "She wants all sorts of knick-knacks that she considers stylish!"