“There is nothing you can say,” said Dulcie. “I had a hard time saying anything, myself. I was simply flabbergasted.”
“How did you get it out here?”
“Oh, that nice Bill had a friend drive it out in a Ford truck. Bill is a nice boy. He gave me a package, too, when I shook hands good-bye. Think of that! I told him, by the way, dad, that if he ever wanted to chauffeur in America, he could drive for me.”
“Har!” said Doctor Sims twice.
“Here is the package. Let’s open it.” She undid the soft paper, and found an inner wrapping of silk around a quaint box of hand wrought silver. Opening it, she gave a little cry of delight.
“Oh, Bill shouldn’t have done this!” she cried, holding up a jewel. It was a heart made of a close-set line of red stones. Within the heart, on a fragile bit of chain, hung a large pear-shaped pearl.
“Look at it!” whispered Dulcie.
“Well, well,” said Doctor Trigg, taking the exquisite thing in his hand. “Fortunately I can explain this to you, Dulcie. In my studies of the Orient, its peoples and customs, I distinctly remember a description of this very jewel. It is a gift designed especially for young girls just budding into womanhood. This heart typifies the heart of woman. Red blood (the sacred rubies) trace its outline. Within hangs this pearl, the tear which is within every heart. But it cannot escape while the sacred rubies imprison it. A lovely thought.”
“Another museum piece,” said Doctor Sims.
“Bill shouldn’t have done it,” repeated Dulcie, in an absolutely stricken tone. “How will he ever pay for it?”