“She was up to some little lark,” said the younger man, “and evidently did not know the value of the brooch. Why, I think she’d have taken a pound for it. But what she did know the value of was her precious time; she was very much annoyed at being kept waiting and at being asked for her address. It is plain she got out without leave; and although the brooch may belong to her—I am sure I hope it does—she has broken a rule, you mark my words. Those schoolgirls are always up to larks. Well, I’d never have thought it of one of Mrs. Ward’s girls.”
“It is a pity you didn’t consult me, Alfred,” said his brother. “The best thing to do now is to put the brooch carefully away. We’ll consider what is best to be done with it; but as to giving the young lady only five pounds for what we can sell any day at Christie’s for a couple of hundred, that is not to be thought of.”
CHAPTER XIX.
THE LETTER.
Maggie got out and came back again without any apparent adventure. She had five pounds in her pocket, and thought herself rich beyond the dreams of avarice. What a delightful fairy-gift had been handed down to her by her dear dead father! She did not miss the brooch in the least, but she valued the small sum she had obtained for it exceedingly.
But while Maggie thought herself so secure, and while the pleasant jingle of the sovereigns as she touched them with her little hand comforted her inexpressibly, things quite against Maggie Howland’s supposed interests were transpiring in another part of the school. 130
It was a strange fact that on this special afternoon both the queens should be prostrated with headache. It is true that Queen Maggie’s headache was only a fiction, but poor Queen Aneta’s was real enough. She was lying down in her pretty bedroom, hoping that quiet might still the throbbing of her temples, when the door was very softly opened, and Merry Cardew brought in a letter and laid it by her side.
“May I bring you some tea upstairs, Aneta?” she said. “Is there anything I can do for you?”