as she was turning away to spread the good tidings, he said:

"Wait a moment, Mary! I have some other news for you. Have you
forgotten the brooch that you found in the Blue Egyptians?"

The color rushed to Mary's face, and Mr. Gordon had his answer.

"Because," he added, "I have not forgotten, though you might well
think I had done so. All this sad business has delayed matters, but
now I have it all arranged. I am ready to-day, Mary, to give you
either the brooch itself, or--what I think will be better--five
hundred dollars, the sum I find it to be worth. Yes, my child, I am
speaking the truth! The stones are fine ones, and the Boston
jeweller offers you that sum for them. Well, Mary, have you nothing
to say? What, crying? this will never do!"

But Mary had nothing to say, and she was crying, because she could
not help it. Presently she managed to murmur something about
"Too much! too great kindness--not fair for her to have it all!" but
Mr. Gordon cut her short.

"Certainly you are to have it all, every penny of it! Finding's
having! that is paper-mill law; ask James Gregory if it is not!
There comes James this moment; go and tell him of your good fortune,
and let him bring you up to my house this evening to get the money.

"But, Mary,"--he glanced at a letter in his hand, and his face,
which had been bright with kindness and pleasure, grew very grave,--
"there is something else for you to tell James, and all the hands.
James Hitchcock died yesterday, of malignant smallpox!"