papa, I did know, for I begged her not to wear it.'

'And when she persisted in doing so, why did you not appeal to your mamma?'

To this question there came no response, so Mr. Ellis continued:

'Let me warn you, my little girl,' he said kindly, 'never to connive at faults in your brothers or sisters; it is to them a cruel kindness, which both they and you may live to be sorry for in after life.'

As Mr. Ellis said this, he drew from his waistcoat-pocket the glittering trinket, which had been the innocent cause of so much anxiety, and placing it in his wife's hand, said:

'Now, my dear, I advise you to be more careful of your jewels, or you may lose far more precious ones than this brooch.'

As he made this remark he nodded to Julia, though Mrs. Ellis well understood what her husband meant.

'Now, my little girl, you may go and join the children, while I tell mamma how I came by the brooch.'

CHAPTER V.

A FRIEND IN NEED.

Julia was very glad indeed to see the brooch again, and glad also to receive a dismissal, as she longed to tell her sister the good news.

'And now, my dear,' said Mr. Ellis, when they were alone, 'I suppose you want to learn the particulars respecting the lost and found.'

'Indeed I do, Arthur,' replied his wife; 'it seems a marvellous thing to me how the brooch should have come into your possession, or indeed how it was found at all.'

'Well, it all came about without any magic, as you shall hear,' said her husband. 'You remember the young lady, Miss Vernon, who was staying a short time in the winter with our friends the Maitlands, and whom we were invited to meet?'

'Oh yes, I remember her quite well; I thought her so very pretty, and she sang so delightfully. But what of her?' inquired Mrs. Ellis.

'Well,' replied the gentleman, 'that lady is now a Mrs. Norton; she is married to a friend of mine—an old friend, I should say, for we went to school together.'

'Then he must be considerably older than the lady,' said Mrs. Ellis, 'for I think she is not twenty yet.'

'You are right there, my dear,' said her husband; 'I dare say Norton is twice her age: but he is a fine-looking man—and,' added Mr. Ellis, with a significant smile, 'he has plenty of money, Ada: you know what a bait that is for the ladies.'

'No, I don't know any such thing, Arthur,' replied the lady, warmly; 'and I don't like to hear such things said. Men much oftener marry for money than women do.'

'Well, we will discuss that point some other time, my dear,' said Mr. Ellis; 'but now for my story:

'As I was walking through the Strand this morning, who should I meet but the couple we were speaking of. I did not know them at first, but as they stopped short, and prevented my passing, I soon recognised both lady and gentleman, though it is many years since I saw the latter.

'After the usual congratulations and shaking of hands had been gone through, my friend said:

'"Well, I certainly did not expect to meet you here, Ellis, though, strange to say, you are the very person we came out to call upon; for, strangely enough, I have in my possession a brooch, which, I feel sure, must belong to your good wife, as it has her name, Ada Ellis, engraven on the back. Am I right?" added Norton, taking the brooch from his pocket, and handing it to me.

'"Yes," I said, "this is certainly my wife's brooch, but how it could come into your possession is a mystery to me."

'"It need not be so long, if you will just walk into the Temple Gardens with us. I am going to call on a friend there, and we shall be out of all this noise and bustle," said Norton.

'As I was not just then under any engagement, I turned back with them, and heard the story of the lost and found. It is a very simple one, and I give it in his own words,' said Mr. Ellis.

'"You know Mr. and Mrs. Maitland," began Mr. Norton; "my wife says that she met you at their house last winter, and as they are very old and kind friends of hers, and our stay in town will be short, we set off yesterday morning to call upon them. Unfortunately, the two nice little girls were out, so we did not see them, though I hope we shall do so before we leave London. After leaving Mr. Maitland's, we strolled towards the Regent's Park; and when we had pretty well tired ourselves, we made towards a pleasant seat under the shade of a magnificent tree. A party of young ladies were just leaving the spot which we had selected, but as they were intently looking on the ground, with their backs towards us, they, I suppose, did not notice our approach; nor could we, at the distance we were, recognise them.

'"In this pleasant spot we remained for some time, and on rising to go, my wife saw just at her foot, though it was partially hidden by a tuft of grass, the valuable brooch which I have just had the pleasure to restore to you, and which it was our intention to place in your hands at your own home, had we not thus accidentally met you. Very glad indeed I am that we should have come upon the track of the young ladies, who could be none other but the little Maitlands and your fair daughters. To-morrow, I hope to bring my wife to Camden Terrace, and to introduce her to your good lady as Mrs. Norton, instead of Laura Vernon."

'Now, my dear,' said Mr. Ellis, 'you have got your brooch, and its recent history. I strongly advise you to take more care of the one, and on no account to forget the other.'

'I will try to take your advice, my dear,' said the lady. 'I am so glad, so very glad, that my brooch is found.'

'And I am so sorry, so very sorry, Ada,' said Mr. Ellis, 'that we have a daughter so prone to the detestable vices of pride, vanity, and deceit!'

'Oh, don't be too hard upon poor Mabel, dear,' said her mamma; 'she is very young. You must forgive this childish trick.'

'Trick!' said Mr. Ellis, bitterly—'yes, you have given it a right name, Ada; but I hate tricks.'

CHAPTER VI.

A FRIENDLY PROPOSITION.

The morning after the foregoing occurrence found Mabel very dull, and very captious. She was of course glad to know that the brooch had been found, but very uneasy at the manner of finding it. She was not, in truth, sorry for the fault that she had committed, but her proud spirit chafed at the idea of being talked about in the Maitland family, especially as she knew that a young cousin of theirs, Harry Maitland, was expected to pay them a visit on this very day, when the whole affair was sure to be canvassed.

But we will leave Mabel to her own uneasy thoughts, and look in at the pleasant family party assembled in the breakfast-room of the Laurels, as Mr. Maitland's residence was designated. This villa, as we know, adjoined that of Aunt Mary, who at this time was on a visit with her niece Clara to that young lady's widowed mother, Mrs. Beaumont. Cousin Harry had arrived, and made one of the happy group, who were sitting, books and work in hand, for they were never idle, enjoying the fresh pure air of the morning, and the delicious smell of flowers, of which there was a profusion both outside and in. The garden, indeed, was resplendent with variety and beauty of colouring, softly shaded down by the laurels, which gave their name to the villa.

Mr. Maitland had been reading a book of travels, and he was now descanting on the uses and properties of the Eucalyptus, or blue gum-tree of Australia, which is said to grow as much in seven years, as an oak will grow in twenty;