The pedlar named the price, and Leonora took the box; she intended to give it to little Louisa.

On going to her room she found her asleep, and she sat down softly by her bed-side.  Louisa opened her eyes.

“I hope I didn’t disturb you,” said Leonora.

“O no; I didn’t hear you come in; but what have you got there?”

“It is only a little box; would you like to have it?  I bought it on purpose for you, as I thought perhaps it would please you; because it’s like that which I gave Cecilia.”

“O yes! that out of which she used to give me Barbary drops.  I am very much obliged to you.  I always thought that exceedingly pretty; and this, indeed, is as like it as possible.  I can’t unscrew it; will you try?”

Leonora unscrewed it.

“Goodness!” exclaimed Louisa, “this must be Cecilia’s box; look, don’t you see a great L at the bottom of it?”

Leonora’s colour changed.  “Yes,” she replied calmly, “I see that, but it is no proof that it is Cecilia’s; you know that I bought this box just now of the pedlar.”

“That may be,” said Louisa; “but I remember scratching that L with my own needle, and Cecilia scolded me for it, too.  Do go and ask her if she has lost her box—­do,” repeated Louisa, pulling her by the sleeve, as she did not seem to listen.

Leonora indeed did not hear, for she was lost in thought; she was comparing circumstances, which had before escaped her attention.  She recollected that Cecilia had passed her as she came into the hall, without seeming to see her, but had blushed as she passed.  She remembered that the pedlar appeared unwilling to part with the box, and was going to put it again into his pocket with the half-pence; “and why should he keep it in his pocket and not show it with his other things?” Combining all these circumstances, Leonora had no longer any doubt of the truth; for though she had honourable confidence in her friends, she had too much penetration to be implicitly credulous.  “Louisa,” she began, but at this instant she heard a step, which, by its quickness, she knew to be Cecilia’s, coming along the passage.  “If you love me, Louisa,” said Leonora, “say nothing about the box.”

“Nay, but why not?  I dare say she has lost it.”

“No, my dear, I am afraid she has not.”  Louisa looked surprised.

“But I have reasons for desiring you not to say any thing about it.”

“Well, then, I won’t, indeed.”

Cecilia opened the door, came forward smiling, as if secure of a good reception, and, taking the Flora out of the case, she placed it on the mantel-piece, opposite to Louisa’s bed.  “Dear, how beautiful,” cried Louisa, starting up.

“Yes,” said Cecilia, “and guess who it’s for?”

“For me, perhaps!” said the ingenuous Louisa.

“Yes, take it, and keep it for my sake; you know that I broke your mandarin.”

“O! but this is a great deal prettier and larger than that.”