"Where is _my_ ring?" "Y--your ring?" "Yes, _my_ engagement ring. There has never been any need to hide that." "I--" "Ah, I see! there, too, you took the initiative. You don't bring back a ring, but you left one behind. _He_ has a pledge to show, if you haven't. But my ring was never meant for that; send and get it back. Give me your arm, Emmeline." They passed Val by. At the threshold the old woman turned. "Send and get it back, I say!" A soft knock at the front door arrested her. "Go and see, Emmeline." Mrs. Gano sat down on the chair just inside the door, averting her face from Val. At the sound of Wilbur's voice she half rose. "At _this_ hour!" "Oh, he just wants to see me a moment." Val moved forward. Mrs. Gano stood up, blazing through her spectacles, and cut off the retreat. "Emmeline will remind him that you are not now away from your own home. As long as I'm here, life under this roof must be conducted with some decorum." "Oh, grandmamma, grandmamma!" said Val, hysterically, beginning to laugh and to cry all at once, "don't you see? We thought you were dying, and he's come to see if he can do anything." "_Dying_, indeed!" Her tone was that of one resenting some far-fetched impertinence. "Go and tell him that I never felt better in my life, and that he'd better go home." Mrs. Gano did not appear the next day, nor the next. Val watched her opportunity that second evening, when Emmie was out of the way, to go into her grandmother's room and see for herself how she was. Mrs. Gano certainly appeared in excellent health. She was up, and she was dressed with all her customary care. Standing by the window in the waning light, she bent her veiled head over a book. "Good-evening, grandmamma; how are you?" Mrs. Gano turned and looked over her spectacles. "Good-evening." "I was afraid you were ill." "You are very determined I shall be ill, it seems to me." "No, no, but I naturally wanted to come and--" She stopped, feeling too chilled and rebuffed to say more. "To come and bring me back my ring?" Val, without answering, walked to the door. "You _did_ give it to Ethan? Answer me." "Yes, grandmamma." "Have you got it back?" "No, grandmamma." "But you've heard from him?" "Yes--Emmie must have told you--letters and telegrams." "Had you written him to send back my ring?" "No, grandmamma." "Why not?" It crossed the girl's mind, "Suppose I tell her, 'Because I saw him throw it away.'" She smiled faintly. "You will write for it to-night. Go and do so at once." "No, I'm sorry; I can't do that--I'm sorry;" and she went out.