"None," replied Aunt Lizzie. "I drew it up myself, and took out the parcel; that is quite certain."
"Then I must tell no tales," said the good old man smiling; "only Violet, I know, will take great care of the present;" and turning back he replaced the watch in her hand.
"Yes," said she softly; but her eyes were full of question.
"It belonged once to a little sick girl whom I knew well, and who is now an angel in heaven," he said in a low voice.
"A little sick girl," repeated Violet, gazing at him with eyes widening and darkening.
"Yes; she died early this spring, just when the flowers were beginning to shoot up and the larks to sing. She just stretched out her wings like the little bird on this seal, and flew straight up to heaven."
"Her wings!" cried Violet with a gasp; "was she—;" she paused again, colouring painfully.
"Was she what? what is it, my poor little girlie?" asked the doctor kindly.
"Was she a little hunchback like me?"