"You have heard about my uncle!" she said, in her quick way, looking at him with a little surprise. "Yes, I have heard of Mr. Denison, of Heron Dyke. There is nothing very strange in that." "Ah, yes, I think I am of some use to him," said Ella, softly. "I could not leave Uncle Gilbert for anything or anybody. And I have my school in the village, and two or three poor old people to look after. My life is not altogether an empty one; but what I do seems so small and trifling in comparison with what I think I should like to do. After all, these may be only the foolish longings of an ignorant girl who has seen little or nothing of the world." Mr. Bootle came up and claimed Ella's hand for the next dance. The special correspondent's face softened as he looked after her. "What a sweet creature she is!" he said to himself. "To-morrow I will try to sketch her face from memory." Philip Cleeve was one of the earliest to leave. He had complained of a severe headache for the last hour, and had scarcely danced at all. A little later Mr. Bootle and Captain Lennox went off arm-in-arm. They had never met before this evening, but they seemed to have taken a mutual liking to one another. When Conroy took his leave, Mrs. Carlyon invited him to call again: and he silently promised himself it should be before Ella Winter's departure for Norfolk. But, as circumstances fell out, it was a promise that he could not keep. Two o'clock was striking as Mrs. Carlyon sat down on her dressing-room sofa after the departure of her last guest. Taking out her ear-rings, she handed them to her maid, Higson. "I am glad things passed off nicely," she remarked to Ella, who had stepped in for a few moments' chat. "All the same, I am not sorry it's over," she added, with a sigh of weariness. "Neither am I," acknowledged Ella. "It would take me a long time to get used to your London hours, Aunt Gertrude." "That Captain Lennox seems a very pleasant man. Very stylish too; but he--Higson, what in the world are you fidgeting about?" Mrs. Carlyon broke off to ask. "I am looking for your jewel-case, ma'am," was the maid's rejoinder; "I can't see it anywhere. Perhaps you have put it away?" she added, turning to her mistress. "I have neither seen it nor touched it since I dressed for dinner," said Mrs. Carlyon. "It was on the dressing-table then. I dare say you have put it somewhere yourself." Higson, the patient, knew that she had not, though she made no reply. She continued her search, Ella turning to help her. The maid's face gradually acquired a look of consternation. "It is certainly not here, aunt," cried Ella. "What's that, my dear?" asked Mrs. Carlyon, with a start, rousing herself from the half-doze into which she had fallen. "I say that Higson must have forgotten what she did with it."