This is no place to tell the tale of Cecily's experiences, some grotesque and some sinister. Soon a day came when she and Mrs. Pomfret were compelled to look over again the letters which they had at first rejected, and finally after a long journey by train and tram to a comparatively poor neighbourhood, Cecily found two human beings, good, simple-hearted, tender-minded folk, with whom there seemed some hope that Charlotte Pidder would find a peaceful haven, and work her way back to self-respect and some measure of happiness. It was arranged that her 'days out' should be spent at the Settlement, and she formed a deep, dumb attachment to the girl, only a year or two older than herself, whom she had seen take so much trouble on her behalf, and who had treated her during those anxious days with such kindly, unforced sympathy and consideration. These napkin-rings, with their red and blue pattern worked in Berlin wool, represented many hours of toil, and Cecily, knowing this, was meditating a letter of warm thanks to the sender, when Wantley walked into the studio and looked questioningly at the table. At once he saw the sheet of paper with its rudely-written lines. He looked quickly at the girl, and then remarked: 'Victor Hugo once said that every kind of emotion could be expressed in doggerel, and now I am inclined to think he was right. But I like the poetry better than the present.' Cecily covered the poor little cardboard box with a sudden protective gesture. 'I like them very much,' she said stoutly. 'The person who made them for me has very little spare time, and it was very good of her to take so much trouble. But I have had another present to-day--one you will like better.' Wantley's hand went up to his mouth; he even reddened slightly. But Cecily was not looking at him. Her hands were busy with the old-fashioned fastening of a flat red-leather case. At last the little brass hook slipped back, she lifted the lid, and there, lying on a faded white satin pad, lay two rows of finely matched, though not very large, pearls. The sight affected the two looking down at them very differently. To Wantley the little red case brought back a rush of memories. He saw himself again a little boy, standing by his pretty, fair mother's dressing-table, sometimes allowed as a great treat to fasten the quaint diamond clasp round the slender neck. Cecily simply flushed with pleasure, and she felt full of gratitude to the kind giver, about whose identity she felt no doubt. 'Only the other day,' she said, smiling, 'Penelope noticed that I had no necklace, nothing to wear in the evening--and now you see what she has had sent me!' 'Penelope? Then, do you think these pearls are a gift from my cousin?' 'Of course they are! Who else would think of giving me anything of the kind?' 'Cannot you imagine any other'--Wantley's voice shook a little in spite of himself--'any other person who might wish to give you pleasure?'