by the Austrian Government in Holland. They had belonged to the antiquary Van der Null; and this box of tourmalines was labeled simply "from America."
"Could any of the stones be bought?" we asked.
"Nothing was less likely," we were told. "The Imperial Museum did not trade."
"Oh, Will, I can't leave Stonie," pleaded Ally.
"You shall have him, love, if I can buy him and have money enough left to take care of you with," whispered I.
What I paid to the illustrious Government of Austria to buy back our own tourmaline I would rather not tell. However, the sum, though large for me, was small to them, and I know very well the stone was not bought so much by money as by Ally's eyes, and by the sweet voice and looks with which she told the whole story to the Baron Roederer, who introduced me to his cousin, the director of the Museum.
Stonie is very safe now; he is locked up every night in a tiny jewel-box, which is also of tourmaline, and has a bit of history of its own. It is an exquisite thing, made of thin layers of amber and yellow tourmaline, fastened at the corners by curious gold clamps, with serpents heads. Jim sent it to Ally on the anniversary of our wedding day. In the letter accompanying it he wrote:—
"I send you a magic box to keep Stonie in. It also is tourmaline. You see I can't escape the
