"Tell me who!"
Edith thought a moment. If she should tell Mr. Goddard that the shamrock had been given to her by the housekeeper, it might subject the woman to an unpleasant interview with the master of the house, and, perhaps, place her in a very awkward position.
She resolved upon the only course left—that of refusing to reveal the name of the giver.
"All that I can tell you, Mr. Goddard," she gravely said, at last, "is that the chain and ornament were given to me very recently by an aged friend—"
"Aged!" the man interposed, eagerly.
"Yes, by a person who must be at least sixty years of age," the young girl replied.
"Ah!" The ejaculation was one of supreme relief. "Excuse me, Miss Allen!" he continued, in a more natural manner than he had yet spoken. "I did not mean to be curious, but—a—a person whom I once knew had an ornament very similar to the one you wear—"
He was interrupted just at this point by the sound of a rich, mellow laugh that echoed down the hall like a strain of sweetest music; whereupon Gerald Goddard jumped as if some one had dealt him a heavy blow on the back.
"Good Heaven! who was that?" he cried, with livid lips.
But Edith, taking advantage of the diversion, glided swiftly from the room, telling herself that nothing could induce her to dwell with the family a single day after their return to the city, and that she would take care not to come in contact with Mr. Goddard again—at least to be alone with him—while she did remain with his wife.