"Yes, and oh, Richard! just see these pearls. Exquisite, aren't they! One hundred years old, and a present from my grandmother."
"What a queer, old-fashioned case," said Mary, a younger sister taking up the flat, square box of red morocco, where nestled in its white satin lining lay the milky brooch and ear-rings.
"So much the more valuable; in this love-of-the-antique age," remarked Bertha Lee. "Netta, who sent these gorgeous corals?"
"Aunt Winifred;—wasn't it good of her?"
"Pooh! No more than she might do for each of us," replied the saucy girl. "Heigho! I wish my fate, if I have one, might appear. Couldn't you innocently suggest to the old lady that I have no jewels for the all-important occasion—a bridesmaid, too?"
"Why not select from these?" said Richard. "There is enough here, and to spare, for all. Let's see—pearl, diamond, amethyst, coral, emerald, turquoise, filagree—I declare it is a veritable jeweler's display."
"You must recollect, though, Richard, I had some of these before."
"Her friends seem to have discovered her weakness," observed Mrs. Lee, entering the room.
"Now, mother, you shall not say that. You forget the carloads of things that have come—nice, useful, domestic articles——"