Miss Chalmers shuddered.
"We've all tried it on, but I think it fits me best," asserted Gertrude.
The owner felt dizzy. It had been tried on—defiled!
"You can wear it for a while, if you like, Rosalind," said Gertrude generously.
"No, thank you," answered Miss Chalmers as she returned the bracelet to Mrs. Witherbee.
Her voice was flat and faint.
After that Tom Witherbee joined the group and the tale of the midnight alarm was spun again. Then came Polly Dawson, short, plump, and light-headed—both ways, for she was blonde—and Polly told it all over, but in such different fashion, and with such a completely new set of facts that it became quite a new story.
Afterward a few others came straggling down—the two Winter girls, Fortescue Jones, and a dull-looking youth named Perkins, of whom Miss Chalmers had never heard. And presently Mr. Morton, rearrayed, made his second appearance that morning. He bowed again very formally to the new guest.
It was a dull breakfast for Miss Chalmers. Everybody except herself babbled incessantly about the burglar, the bracelet, and the hunt by lantern-light.
The trinket of a princess was now upon Polly Dawson's arm, she having beseeched Gertrude to let her wear it during the forenoon at least. The owner eyed it gloomily and made plans. Even though it had been desecrated, she did not propose to abandon it to utter vandalism. She did not even intend that any vulgar modern craftsman should make copies of it.