“Oh! what is it?” she cried, tumbling into Jasper’s arms and clasping his neck.  “Oh! oh!”

“Why, it’s a swallow,” cried Dick, in the babel that ensued, “a beautiful one, too.  I’ve just caught him, and I made Jane let me bring it in here to surprise you,” he added proudly.

“Well, you’ve succeeded,” cried Jasper, holding Phronsie close.  “There, there, child, it’s all right.  It’s a bird, Phronsie, and he’s gone upstairs.”

“He’ll frighten my dolls,” cried Phronsie in new alarm, hanging to Jasper’s neck.  “Oh! do let us go upstairs, and tell them he’s only a bird.”

“Run along, Dick, and catch your old bird,” cried Jasper, “and clear out with him—­quick now!”

“He’s the best thing there is in this house,” cried Dick, going over the back stairs two at a time.  “Girls are so silly.”

“Bring him down,” said Polly, moving along to the foot, “and I’ll show him to Phronsie, and tell her about him.  Then she’ll like him, Dick.”

“I’ll like him, Dick,” echoed Phronsie, “if he doesn’t frighten my dolls.”

This episode taking the family life to the rear of the house, no one noticed that soft footsteps were passing through the open front door, that Jane, who was sweeping the vestibule, had left ajar to run and tell Dick that she had not let the bird out of the dining-room.  So the uninvited guest to the household let himself up easily to the scene of his hopes—­the location of the ladies’ jewel-boxes.

XX

THE SECRET

Mrs. Chatterton, standing by her toilet table, carefully examining her wealth of gray hair to note the changes in its tint, was suddenly surprised in the very act of picking out an obnoxious white hair, by a slight noise in the further corner of the apartment.  And dropping her fingers quickly and turning away from the glass, she exclaimed, “How dare you, Hortense, come in without knocking?”

“If you make a noise I’ll kill you,” declared a man, standing in the shadow of a portiere and watching her underneath a slouched black hat.  There was a slight click that caused the listener’s nerves to thrill.  But her varied life had brought her nothing if not self-control, and she coolly answered, “If you want my money, say so.”

“Not exactly money, ma’am,” said the man, “for I don’t suppose you have much here.  But I’ll thank you to hand over that there box of diamonds.”  He extended the other hand with its dingy fingers toward a large ebony jewel-case elaborate with its brass hinges, and suggestive of double locks, on a corner of the table.

“If you are determined to take it, I suppose I must give it to you,” said Mrs. Chatterton, with evident reluctance handing the box designated, very glad to think she had but a few days before changed the jewels to another repository to escape Hortense’s prying eyes.  In making the movement she gave a sweeping glance out the window.  Should she dare to scream?  Michael was busy on the lawn, she knew; she could hear his voice talking to one of the under gardeners.