"May I look at it, Gander?" asked Mrs. Fane. The cook, still under the influence of those cold eyes, handed it over at once, talking while she did so. But she kept her treasure-trove in sight, and despite her awe would have fought Mrs. Fane, had that lady shown any signs of annexing the property. "It's jewels rich and rare with gold, mum," said Gander poetically; "emerald and sappers and dimings and them things you read of in the book of Revelations. I shall sell it to a jeweller as I knows, and with the money I shall become a lady. I don't know as I'll marry," pursued the cook meditatively; "but I'll have a little house of my own, and sit all day in the parlour in white muslin reading novels and----" "You really must not take so much to drink, Gander," said Mrs. Fane. The cook bristled up. "Ho, indeed!" she snorted. "I'm accused of drink, am I, when my emotions is natural, having come in for a forting. I read it in the candle last night, and in the tea-leaves two weeks previous, and then I----" "Cook, don't be a fool! This is by no means so costly as you think." "It's worth a thousand, if I'm a judge of stones." "Ah! but you see you are not," said Mrs. Fane cruelly. "This dagger belongs to me. It is only imitation gold and bits of glass." Gander dropped into a chair. "Lor!" Then with an enraged screech, "Don't tell me deceptions, whatever you do, mum. My nerves won't stand deceptions nohow." Here Gander put a large fat hand on her ample bosom, and observed pathetically, "I feel all of a wabble, as you might say." "I wore this," said Mrs. Fane, fingering the dagger, "at a fancy ball, and threw it away along with some other rubbish. I suppose that is how it got into the dust-hole." Had the cook been quite herself, and observant, she might have doubted this explanation, which was certainly weak. Mrs. Fane's maid would never have carried such a dazzling object to the dust-hole, had she seen it amidst any rubbish her mistress might have cast aside. But Gander, deceived by fortune, broke down sobbing at the disappointment of her hopes. "To think my 'eart should be cast up to be likewise cast down," she gurgled. "When I went with the ashbucket I sawr that objict aglittering like anything, being stuck in the side of the dust-hole, as it were." Mrs. Fane listened attentively. "The 'andle showed beautiful under some cabbige stalks, and I thought as I was made for life. O mum"--she clasped her hands, which were encased in green gloves--"let me take it to my jeweller, and see if he don't think them stones of price." Mrs. Fane, shaking her head, quietly slipped the dagger into her pocket. "It's only rubbish," she insisted, "so I'll keep it here, as it seems to upset you. Go downstairs, Gander, and see after the dinner. I shall overlook your conduct this time, but don't let this sort of thing occur again. And you might look at your pledge while you're about it."