“I don’t know, and if I did, what good would it do without a dollar in hand?” “No! no! Eva; I have been saving; I have got money—not anything to what they want, but some,” cried Ruth, wiping the tears from her eyes, which somehow began to kindle with vague hope. “Oh, Ruthy! we shall want that to keep us from starving. My place is gone; James has nothing to do! Mrs. Carter, please give me that paper. Mother must know. It is only cruelty to hold it back.” “Not just yet, if you please. Bad news comes to a head soon enough, without forcing. Go and get your things; there will be time to settle that when we come back. Don’t you see Battles snapping the flowers with his whip; that shows that he is getting furious—so do make haste.” CHAPTER LXIII. THE PRICE OF A BRACELET. Eva obeyed. Perhaps she was glad to accept the respite which Mrs. Carter offered her. Still her hands trembled as she fastened the tiny bonnet on her head, and covered her face with a veil, with a vain effort to hide all traces of the tears that still welled up to her eyes, spite of all her efforts. “Come now, let us be off. Just keep cool, and don’t fret yourself into a fever, till we come back,” said Mrs. Carter, kissing Ruth before she went out, “and not a word to the grim—I mean nice old lady in yonder. There, there, no more sobbing—she’ll hear you.” Bright as a sunbeam, and full of energy, which contrasted with Eva’s mournful lassitude, Mrs. Carter swept through the little yard, and for once defied Battles’ evident ill-temper. “Drive to Carter’s office,” she said, “and be quick about it. Don’t dare to let the grass grow under them horses’ hoofs, when I’m in the carriage. Get in, my dear; don’t wait for me. There now, we are ever so comfortable—you and I.” Away went the carriage at full speed, for Battles, not daring to disobey orders entirely, resolved to vent his ill-temper by overdoing them. At another time the sulky coachman might have terrified the good lady within, by the reckless speed with which he crashed into the carts and omnibuses on his way toward Wall Street. As it was, this hidden motive seemed nothing more than prompt obedience. “Tell Carter to come out; I want to speak to him,” said the lady, when Battles drew up near the office-door, and the footman looked in for orders. In a few moments, Carter came down the steps, rosy and smiling, his heavy watch-chain swinging loosely down from the pocket of his white vest, and the diamonds in his bosom glistening richly. “Well, what is it?” he inquired, looking into the carriage, and nodding kindly to Eva. “Brought the article down for me to look at, I suppose. It is of no use; if you like it, that’s enough.” Mrs. Carter took out her reticule-purse, opened the gold clasp, and took a scrap of paper from it.