Meantime, they had seen Miss Benedict go in and out once or twice, limping slightly, and had watched her veiled figure with absorbed interest. "Who could possibly imagine her as beautiful!" they marveled. And truly, it was an effort of imagination to connect beauty with the queer, oddly arrayed little figure. Also, at various times during each day, Marcia made a point of giving a little violin concert at her window, and, at Janet's suggestion, had chosen the liveliest and most cheerful music in her repertoire for sad little Cecily's entertainment. The two girls likewise exhausted every possibility in the line of small gifts and tiny trifles to amuse and entertain their young neighbor. But there was no further communication from her till one night after they had sent down an embroidery ring and silks, the latest pattern of a dainty boudoir-cap, and elaborate instructions how to embroider it. Next night there was a note on the end of the string when they drew it up. It read: How dear of you to send me this! I _love_ to embroider, and had brought no materials with me. And now I want to ask you a question. Do you mind what I do with it after it is finished? Is it my very own? What can I ever do to repay you for all your kindness! In their answer they assured her that she could make any use of the boudoir-cap that pleased her. And then they spent much time wondering what use she _was_ going to make of it. Two nights later, when they pulled up the string, they found, to their surprise, a small parcel attached to the end. It contained a little box in which lay, wrapped in jeweler's cotton, a tiny coral pendant in an old-fashioned gold setting, and a silver bracelet of thin filigree-work. The pendant was labeled, "For Marcia, with Cecily's love," and the bracelet, "For Janet, with love from Cecily." The two girls gazed at the pathetic little gifts and sudden tears came into their eyes. "Oh, Jan!" half sobbed Marcia; "we oughtn't to keep them! They're probably the only trinkets she has." But Janet was wiser. "We must keep them," she decided. "Cecily doesn't want all the giving to be on one side, and she has probably been longing to do something for us. I suppose these are the only things she had that would be suitable. Much as I hate to have her deprive herself of them, I know she'd be terribly hurt if we sent them back. To-morrow we must write her the best letter of thanks we can."