I peeped into the case when she let it drop and was so disappointed to
find nothing but a key."

"A key! What sort of a key?" cried Paul in an eager tone.

"Oh, a little silver one like the key of my piano, or the black cabinet.
She woke and was very angry to find me meddling."

"What did it belong to?" asked Paul.

"Her treasure box, she said, but I don't know where or what that is, and
I dare not ask any more, for she forbade my speaking to her about it.
Poor Mamma! I'm always troubling her in some way or other."

With a penitent sigh, Lillian tied up her flowers and handed them to
Paul to carry. As she did so, the change in his face struck her.

"How grim and old you look," she exclaimed. "Have I said anything that
troubles you?"

"No, Miss Lillian. I'm only thinking."

"Then I wish you wouldn't think, for you get a great wrinkle in your
forehead, your eyes grow almost black, and your mouth looks fierce. You
are a very odd person, Paul; one minute as gay as any boy, and the next
as grave and stern as a man with a deal of work to do."

"I _have_ got a deal of work to do, so no wonder I look old and grim."

"What work, Paul?"