The tall French girl whisked away the small American child. The door was shut between the two rooms, and at the outer one, leading into the corridor, a tap sounded.
"Come in!" cried Elinor, clothing herself with dignity. But it was not Paul Valois, horticulturist, who entered. It was Mrs. Odell's own Irish-American maid, with an immense parcel.
"It comes from Paris, and it's for little Miss Angel," she said, leaving the door open. "Oh, Madame, it's sure to be that wonderful doll we talked of."
Then, just in time to catch these words—appropriate words for Christmas Eve—a tall, thin young man appeared on the threshold. His hat was in his hand, and the scar of a wound still showed red on his forehead. Though the night was cold, and Elinor Odell had been glad of her sables, he wore no overcoat. His clothes looked more suitable for summer than for winter, even in the south of 45 France, and she wondered if it were a trick to catch her sympathy. She could not help thinking that he had a good, brave face, not the face of a trickster; but she deliberately put herself in the judgment seat. It would take more than a pair of fine eyes and a broad forehead with a soldier's scar, to charm her out of it!
"Good evening," she greeted him pleasantly, in French. "It was you, I think, who kindly sent your wife here with my little lost girl this evening. I'm glad to be able to thank you both for what you did." Designedly she let the man have a "lead," and waited curiously to see what use he would make of it.
He did not keep her long in suspense. "Oh, Madame, we did nothing at all," he replied, giving his case away unexpectedly. "My children thought your little girl must be a fairy. You see, my wife tells them wonderful stories. She comes from a county in England where they still believe in the 'wee folk'—Devonshire. Perhaps you've been there? It was a great joy to them to have the visit, 46 and the walk was a pleasure. We are all glad if you have been spared anxiety; but I fear you must have been anxious about another loss. It is for that reason I have hurried here, on a bicycle borrowed from our nearest neighbor. The little lady amused herself tying a ribbon and a beautiful ring to the neck of my children's pet, a white kitten given by that same neighbor who lent the bicycle. Then she must have forgotten to take it off. It was only a few minutes ago that my Paulette found the ring, when she came home. I have brought it to you."
"How good of you to take so much trouble!" exclaimed Elinor. But something inside her whispered, "He thought it would be safer to claim the regard than to keep the diamond."
The Belgian took from his pocket a clean handkerchief with a knot tied in the corner, and from the knot produced the ring.
"La voilà, Madame," he said, simply, as he laid the shining thing on the letter-strewn table. "And now I will not disturb you longer. 47 Permit me to wish for you and the little fairy who visited us a happy Christmas."
So he was leaving the reward to her generosity! Wasn't that rather clever of him?