‘Very likely. She was, for once, hard at work in the garret, moving boxes and hampers. It is lying somewhere on the floor. If you wish it I will search for her ornament, and hope my success will be equal to that of last night.’ He looked down at her hand. The ring was not on it. She observed his glance and said coldly, ‘My ring does not fit me, and I shall reserve it till I am old, or till I find some young lady friend to whom I must make a wedding present.’ Then she turned away. She walked across the Abbot’s Meadow, through which the path led to the rocks, because she knew that Eve had gone in that direction. Before long she encountered her sister returning with a large bunch of foxgloves in her hand.
‘Do look, Bab!’ exclaimed Eve, ‘is not this a splendid sceptre? A wild white foxglove with thirty-seven bells on it.’
‘Eve!’ said Barbara, her honest face alight with pleasure; ‘my dearest, I was wrong to doubt you. I know now where you found the ring, and I am not in the least cross about it. There, kiss and make peace.’
‘I wish the country folk had a prettier name for the foxglove than flop-a-dock,’ said Eve.
‘My dear,’ said Barbara, ‘you shall show me the pretty things you have found in the attic.’
‘What—Bab?’
‘I know all about it. Jasper has proved a traitor.’
‘What has he told you?’
‘He has told me where you found the turquoise ring, together with a number of fancy ball dresses.’