'Yes,' said the poor woman, 'that is my sister Lucy--my own sister Lucy. I
haven't looked at it for many a day; I can hardly bear to look at it now,
for I shall never see her again--never, darling! What's that, Rosalie?' she
said fearfully, covering the locket with her apron, as some one passed the
caravan.

'It's only some men strolling through the fair, mammie dear,' said Rosalie.

'Because I wouldn't have your father see this for the world; he would soon
sell it if he did. I've hid it up all these years, and never let him find
it. I could not bear to part with it; she gave it to me my last birthday
that I was at home. I remember it so well, Rosalie dear; I had been very
disagreeable to Lucy a long time before that, for I knew I was doing wrong,
and I had such a weight on my mind that I could not shake it off, and it
made me cross and irritable.

'Lucy was never cross with me, she always spoke gently and kindly to me;
and I sometimes even wished she would be angry, that I might have some
excuse for my bad behaviour.

'Well, dear, when I woke that morning, I found this little box laid on my
pillow, and a note with it, asking me to accept this little gift from my
sister Lucy, and always to keep it for her sake. Oh, Rosalie darling,
wasn't it good of her, when I had been so bad to her?

'Well, I kissed her, and thanked her for it, and I wore it round my neck;
and when I ran away that morning, I put it safely in my bag, and I've kept
it ever since. Your father has not seen it for many years, and he has
forgotten all about it. When we were so poor, I used to be so afraid he