“Speaking of conspiracies,” remarked Emory, who lost no time in finding an opening, “how advances our present one? I have been thinking of nothing else since our talk about Helen.”
Uncle Peabody rose and glanced around the garden from his point of vantage. “Careful!” he said, drawing back. “Helen is coming, and I can only say that we must move very cautiously—even more so than I supposed. I will tell you more later.”
“Here we are, Helen,” he answered, in response to his niece’s call, and both men advanced to meet her.
“Oh, you have found my ‘snuggery’!” cried Helen, seeing them emerge from the arbor. “I intended to keep that entirely for myself, but I will be generous and share it with you.”
“Mr. Emory has brought you a talisman,” said Uncle Peabody, pointing to the wicker cage. “Perhaps you will permit this to appease your displeasure.”
Helen examined with interest the cage Emory placed in her hand.
“Why, it is a cricket!” she exclaimed, as she discovered the occupant beneath the green leaves.
The story of the origin of the festa was retold and the grillo placed under her special protection.
“It is an emblem of good luck, Helen,” added Emory—“like the swastika, only a great deal less commonplace.”
“Thank you, Phil,” replied Helen. Then she looked up at him suddenly. “Why did you bring it to me?” she asked, suspiciously. “Do you think I need it?”