Mrs. Freeman Tracy was a faded, washed-out woman who had been very pretty in her girlhood and who thought with the aid of dress and cosmetics to retain a remnant at least of her former youth and beauty. Celine, who understood make-ups to perfection, always did her best with her older mistress, and Worth and New York modistes did the rest. On this occasion her dress would have been suitable for Narraganset or Saratoga, though even there it would have been noticed for its elaborate elegance, but in plain Ridgefield it looked, with its sweeping train and flounces and ribbons, as if designed for a ballroom rather than a country tavern. But no such idea troubled her. She was vainer of her looks, if possible, than her daughter, and a great deal more shallow. She was proud of being Mrs. Freeman Tracy and the granddaughter of the tallest monument in Ridgefield cemetery; proud of being the mother of the most beautiful girl in New York, or any other city she had ever visited, and very proud of the famous Tracy diamonds. They had been brought from India by her husband’s uncle on his mother’s side and given to her on her wedding day, with the understanding that they were to go to her daughter, if she had one, on her bridal day. There was a cross, with pin and ear-rings,—the whole representing a fortune in itself. The ear-rings especially were of great value and once seen could readily be identified. They were pear shaped, very large, white and clear, and always attracted attention and excited comment when she wore them. The care of these costly gems was the bane of Mrs. Tracy’s life, and numberless and curious were their hiding places when not in a downtown safe at her banker’s where she kept them during Lent and at such times as she did not wear them. Helen had urged her leaving them there when coming to Ridgefield, but she had refused to do so. The bank might be robbed, or duplicates might be made of them in Paris where the banker went every few months. She had heard of such things, and when she was not in the city and liable to call for them every few days there was no knowing what might be done. She should take them with her, putting the boxes in a strong linen bag which Celine carried, with instructions never to let it out of her possession a moment. At the Prospect House it would be rather awkward for the girl to be walking around with a bag hung on her arm, and during the night it had reposed under Mrs. Tracy’s mattress and been forgotten until Sarah, when making the bed, found it and took it to Mrs. Tracy. Evidently some place where the jewels could stay must be found for them. “I wonder if there is a safe in the house,” Mrs. Tracy thought, as she opened one of the boxes and feasted her eyes upon her treasures. Then she wondered where Helen and Alice were, and why everybody was out of the way when she wanted them.