But she began to speak before I did. 'It isn't as if I'd been
unlucky--I couldn't ha' 'elped _that_. But I know when I'm in the
wrong'--she unfolded a parcel she had in her hand as she spoke--'so I
went out larst night and bought these to replace what I broke. Right's
right, I always say'; and she laid down before me a pair of vases on
which were emblazoned gigantic and strangely-hued flowers that could
belong to no earthly flora.

'They're bigger'n the varses I broke,' she murmured, regarding her
purchase with satisfaction.

Then I noted that she wore an expression of lofty pride, that she
glowed with the calm satisfaction of one who has made ample reparation.
Looking at Elizabeth just then you might almost have thought that she
had a soul. Really, it gave one an odd feeling.

I picked up her offering and regarded it a moment in silence, while my
aesthetic nature shook to its foundations. Stifling the moan of horror
that had risen to my lips, I faced her with a smile. Balaclava heroes
could have done no more.

'Thank you, Elizabeth,' I said humbly.




CHAPTER IV

Marion often says that if Elizabeth hadn't . . . but I believe I