“How so?” and Mr. Isburn's voice betrayed his astonishment.
“Don't you remember saying if the ring was lost or stolen that you should call upon me to recover it?”
“Why, yes, I do remember. If you find it, you shall have a big reward. If found, I am going to give the ring to a young lady.”
“Who is she? Pardon my hasty inquisitiveness.”
“My niece, Rose Isburn. She is my only brother's daughter. He has just died and left her in my charge. Nothing has happened since I began my professional career that has so puzzled and disgusted me as the loss of that ring. I thought myself acute, and I am outwitted by a chit of a girl. I think I'll sell out, take my niece to Europe and marry her off to a Prince or a Duke.”
“Don't do it!” laughed Miss Dana. “Leave her your money, and let her choose some honest, clean, young American.”
“Well, I think you are right,” answered Mr. Isburn, laughing at Mary's half serious, half comic air, “but I must first sell my business. Will you find me a purchaser? I want to travel, and loaf the rest of my life. I've had my fill of adventure and excitement.”
“Perhaps you can find a purchaser while I'm finding the ring. As you say, your description of her is very meagre. But she was a flower girl and that is one point gained.”
“But she may be selling oranges or dragging a hand-organ to-day.”
“True,” replied Miss Dana, “and she may be selling flowers again to-morrow,” and the conversation dropped.