possibilities of a long February evening. And above them I sat on
the roof and cried. Yes, cried.

I was roused by some one coughing just behind me, and I tried to
straighten my face before I turned. It was Flannigan, his double
row of brass buttons gleaming in the twilight.

"Excuse me, miss," he said affably, "but the boy from the hotel
has left the dinner on the doorstep and run, the cowardly little
divil! What'll I do with it? I went to Mrs. Wilson, but she says
it's no concern of hers." Flannigan was evidently bewildered.

"You'd better keep it warm, Flannigan," I replied. "You needn't
wait; I'm coming." But he did not go.

"If--if you'll excuse me, miss," he said, "don't you think ye'd
betther tell them?"

"Tell them what?"

"The whole thing--the joke," he said confidentially, coming
closer. "It's been great sport, now, hasn't it? But I'm afraid
they will get on to it soon, and--some of them might not be
agreeable. A pearl necklace is a pearl necklace, miss, and the
lady's wild."

"What do you mean?" I gasped. "You don't think--why, Flannigan--"

He merely grinned at me and thrust his hand down in his pocket.
When he brought it up he had Bella's bracelet on his palm,