“My badge of serfdom, the iron ring. In olden days serfs wore iron collars; now it’s an iron ring.”
“Oh, your iron ring!” laughed her aunt. “I needed it for my stunt. But here it is; you may have it and welcome, diamond and all.”
“I shall keep you ever and always,” murmured the girl, pressing the ring to her lips. “I shall cherish you in memory of a grand and glorious adventure.”
“Of course you understood,” said Miss Diurno, turning to Lucile, “that you are to keep the fur lined cape.”
“No, I——”
“Oh yes, you must! It was the one extravagance that I made the paper pay for. I traded with you, and have lost yours, so there is really no other way out. Besides,” her voice softened, “I want you to accept it as a gift from me, a little token of appreciation for your many kindnesses to my little niece.”
Lucile’s head was in a whirl. She found herself unable to think clearly of all her good fortune. A great musician, an author, and a very rich girl for her friends; a magnificent cape of midnight blue and fox skin, and two hundred dollars in gold! Merry Christmas! What a Christmas it would be indeed!
“Listen,” whispered Miss Diurno. From some distant room there came the slow, sweet chimes of a clock.
“Striking midnight,” she whispered. Then from far and near there came the clanging of church bells.
“Christmas morning!” exclaimed Miss Diurno, springing to her feet. “Merry, Merry Christmas to all!”