sort of ornament, even a gold pin. She thought the locket could not
possibly belong to you."

"Well, it does. An' the reason she hasn't noticed me wearin' it is, I
wear it under my waist, see?"

Again Mr. Ronald fixed her with his keen eyes. "I see. You wear it under
your waist. Of course, that explains why she hasn't noticed it. Yet,
_if_ you wear it under your waist, how came it to get out from under and
be on my desk?"

Martha's face did not change beneath his scrutiny. During a rather long
moment she was silent, then her answer came glibly enough.

"When I'm workin' I'm ap' to get het-up, an' then I sometimes undoes the
neck o' my waist, an' turns it back to give me breathin'-room."

Mr. Ronald accepted it gravely. "Well, it is a very pretty locket,
Martha--and a very pretty face inside it. Of course, as the trinket was
in my room, and as there was no name or sign on the outside to identify
it, I opened it. I hope you don't mind."

"Certainly not," Martha assured him. "Certainly not!"

"The inscription on the inside puzzles me. 'Dear Daddy, from Claire.'
Now, assuredly, you're not _dear Daddy,_ Martha."

Mrs. Slawson laughed. "Not on your life, I ain't _Dear Daddy,_ sir. Dear
Daddy was Judge Lang of Grand Rapids--you know, where the furnitur' an'
the carpet-sweepers comes from--He died about a year ago, an' Miss