fashioned brooch I used to wear? The one with the secret spring in the back, that, when you pressed on it, showed a little picture of me. Do you remember that?"
"Do I? I should say I did! And how you dropped it at a dance once, and I had to crawl down under the palms in the conservatory to get it."
"And you in your dress suit, poor boy!" and Ruth laughed. "I should say you might well remember it. But, Tom, this is serious," and she grew grave at once. "I've lost that brooch!"
"Lost it—how?"
"Or, rather. It's been stolen, and I don't dare tell Phil. You know the clasp was broken, or something was the matter with it. That's the reason it fell off that time you had to hunt for it."
"And did it drop again? Tell me where, and I'll search until"
"No, Tom, it wouldn't do any good," and Ruth sighed.
"Why not?"
"Because it's been stolen!"
"Stolen!"
"Yes. Listen. I feel dreadfully about it. You know it was a gift from my grandmother. She is a dear, old-fashioned lady, and she has lots of lovely old-fashioned jewelry. She always said she disliked the present styles, and when she gave me
