There had been nothing wrong then, at least she had noticed nothing.
When had the gems been taken, and who had taken them? No wonder she craved solitude to ponder the conundrum! This, however, was not the paramount reason she desired to be alone.
Despite the enigma of the jewels; despite the mystery surrounding Stanley Heath, deep in her heart something that would not be stilled was singing—singing!
[Chapter X]
In the meantime, the throng of neighbors Sylvia had precipitately left in the village post office had received their mail and reached that anticipated interval for gossip which never failed to be stimulating.
Clustered about the counter loitered the standbys.
Zenas Henry was speaking:
"A mighty fine little girl—that Sylvia," commented he. "A high stepper! We'd oughter tie her down to Wilton so'st she won't go back West. She's too pretty to be spared from the Cape."