'We have got the necklace!' So cried Charlie, as with flushed, triumphant faces the boys entered the dining-room, where the whole family party was assembled together.
'My dear boy, that's impossible,' replied Lady Winterton, 'for I found it myself, only ten minutes ago, behind a chest of drawers.'
'Then what is this?' cried poor Charlie, looking very surprised. He then told his story, which was certainly a very strange one. However, the mystery was soon cleared up. The case contained nothing but photographs, one of which was a portrait of Lady Winterton taken with her daughter, Alice. Clearly this was the theft to which the stranger (a wealthy, if somewhat eccentric, young American) alluded. He was Alice Winterton's accepted lover, and, half in earnest, half in jest, had taken the photograph for his own use.
The reward was not paid, after all. But when Mr. Hereford and Lady Winterton heard, from Charlie's story, of the blacksmith's trouble, they put their heads together, with the result that Dan Webster's daughter spent a happy time in a seaside home, and came back very grateful, and quite restored to health. The amateur detectives had done some good, after all.
WHY THE SEA SOBS.
he Sea no father has,
Nor any mother:
A trouble quite enough
One's mind to bother.
That's why, my dear,
Where'er it be,
We sometimes hear
A sobbing Sea.
If we no fathers had,
Or loving mothers,
No little sisters fair,
No baby-brothers,
We'd shed a tear,
(Poor You, poor Me,)
And sigh, 'Oh, dear,'
Just like the Sea.