brilliant, and Dolly's delight knew no bounds as she took the dazzling
stones in her hands and examined them carefully. Diamond were the jewels
of all others which she coveted, but which Frank never felt warranted in
buying, and now they were hers, and for a time she forgot even Gretchen,
whose arrival, or rather non-arrival, troubled her as much as it did her
brother-in-law.

Arthur had been very quiet and gentle all the afternoon, showing no sign
of the temper he had exhibited the previous night at sight of Harold
until about six o'clock, when Tom, his ten-year-old nephew, came rushing
into the library, followed by Peterkin, very hot and very red in the
face, which he mopped with his yellow silk handkerchief.

'Oh, mother,' Tom began, 'what do you think Harold Hastings has done? He
stole Mrs. Peterkin's gold pin last night. It was stuck in her shawl,
and she couldn't find it, and Lucy saw him fumbling with the things, and
he denies it up hill and down, and Mr. Peterkin is going to arrest him.
I guess Dick St. Claire won't think him the nicest boy in town now. The
thief! I'd like--

But what he would like was never known, for with a spring Arthur bounded
toward him, and seizing him by the coat collar, shook him vigorously,
while he exclaimed:

'Coward and liar! Harold Hastings is not a thief! No child of Amy
Crawford could ever be a thief, and if you say that again, or even
insinuate it to any living being, I'll break every bone in your body. Do
you understand?'

'Yes, sir; no sir, I won't; I won't,' Tom gasped, as well as he could,