“I beg your pardon for my thoughtlessness,” he said. “I must have lost my head. Mother, this is Miss Helen Tracy.”
Mrs. Mason bowed to her a little stiffly, but Helen was not be ignored, and talked on in a familiar, chatty way, until she saw from her mother’s face that she was growing restless and anxious for a chance to speak.
“What is it, mamma?” she said at last. “Do you want anything?”
“Yes,” her mother replied. “I wish to see Mr. Taylor, or some responsible person with regard to my diamonds. Do you know if he is in the office?”
She looked at Craig, who arose at once and said he would inquire. Returning in a moment he brought Mark with him, saying Mr. Taylor was not in, but Mr. Hilton would perhaps do as well, if she were thinking of the safe. Mrs. Tracy’s face showed that she would rather deal with the proprietor, and she finally said so. She had opened the boxes and put them upon the table where the jewels shone and flashed in a bit of sunlight which fell across them.
“Jeff said you wanted me. Here I be,” came at that moment from Uncle Zach, who was followed by his wife with her big kitchen apron on, her sleeves above her elbows and a patch of flour on her face. “Wall, I’ll be dumbed,” he began, when he saw the diamonds. “These must be the stones I’ve hearn tell on,” he said, taking one of the ear-rings from its satin bed and turning it in the sun until a hundred sparks of light danced on the wall and on the floor. “I reckon these cost money,—hundreds, maybe.”
“Hundreds!” Mrs. Tracy repeated scornfully, “Thousands are nearer the truth.”
“You don’t say so,” and Uncle Zach gasped as he looked at the stones and wondered where the money was in them.
Holding the jewel up to his wife’s ear he asked how she would like to wear it.
“Don’t be a fool,” she said, “and put the ear-ring back before you drop it and break it and have it to pay for.”