RHODA IS FILLED WITH ASTONISHMENT AND DELIGHT.

She found Rhoda sitting by the table in great anxiety and tribulation, blaming herself severely for having allowed an article of such value to go out of her possession, and wondering how she could, for a moment, have thought Constance Hudson a possible customer. The little creature could scarcely restrain the cry of satisfaction that rose to her lips when Constance opened the door; but when she saw that the girl's arms were empty, her heart gave a sudden leap of fear.

"What—what have you done with the shawl?" she cried out, in a voice that told the girl all that had been passing in her mind.

"Well, I haven't stolen it, at any rate; don't trouble yourself to look so wild."

"But, what have you done with it? You know it doesn't belong to me one bit!"

"No, I should think not, you ungrateful little tyke. I've sold the shawl for you for a thousand dollars."

"A thousand do—dollars!" broke in Rhoda, aghast with surprise. "You sold it!"

"Yes; for five times as much as it is worth, I dare say; for you are an awful little cheat, anyhow, from a box of matches up—there's no trusting you."

"But the money—the money!" exclaimed Rhoda, too anxious for any recognition of the charge. "I wasn't to part with it on any terms without the cash down."

"Well, here is your cash down, you little snipe."

Constance opened her hand, dropped the roll of money into Rhoda's lap, and sat down by the table, enjoying the child's incredulous consternation with intense delight.

"Is it? Oh! tell me if it is genuine? Don't make fun of me! You wouldn't think of it if you only knew how anxious the poor lady——that is, how anxious I am to get the money, or—or the shawl, you know!"

"Just take the bills out and see if they are good; I can trust you, though you do seem to suspect me," said Constance, smiling.

"And may I? You won't be angry? I won't be gone a minute. Just sit here till I come back again."

Away the child flew, like a winged creature, down the stairs, which she cleared half a dozen steps at a leap, and into the street; entering the restaurant in which she was so well known, quite out of breath.

"Is that good money? Tell me quick, for I'm in a dreadful hurry!" she panted, flinging the roll of bills on the counter.

The man examined the bills, one by one, with great scrutiny, now and then looking over them at little Rhoda, who stood by the desk holding her very breath in suspense.

"Yes, the money is good; but——"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, quite sure, Rhoda. But how on earth did you come by so much money? It frightens me."

"And me, too," answered the child, clasping her hands; "but I am so glad. You are certain there is no mistake."

"Yes, I am certain, child; but——"

"Just give me the cash, if you please; but say it again—the money is good."

The excited creature began huddling the bills between her two little hands, which fluttered among them like frightened birds.

"But where did you get them, Rhoda?"

"No matter! Never you mind—it is all in the way of business."

"But does your father know?"

"My father? Yes, he knows all about it."

"That is right. Now be careful of your money. What a smart little thing it is," said the man, looking after the child as she flitted up the steps, and away to her own home, which she entered with a burst of triumphant gratitude.

"Oh, Miss Constance! Miss Constance! I beg your pardon! There never was such a wicked, ungrateful, good-for-nothing little snapping-turtle as I am—suspicioning everybody, and wanting to be sure. The very rats in the wall ain't meaner than I am; and as for mice, they are ladies compared to me. I know it, I feel it, and I'm ashamed of myself and as proud of you. I always thought you was handsome, but now you're beautiful, magnificent! Oh, dear! I do believe I shall get to laughing before this is done with."

Here Rhoda sat down, flung her little white apron over her head, and did absolutely end off her excitement, under its shelter, in a way that made the snowy fabric shiver, protesting all the time, in a broken, watery voice, that she was so ashamed, but sometimes she couldn't help laughing in the wrong place.

I think Constance forgot exactly how all this happiness had been brought about, and rather prided herself on being the cause, as if there had been no disgrace in the method. At any rate, the quick tears came into her own eyes, and she patted Rhoda's head through the apron, telling her not to cry—a suggestion of weakness which Rhoda resented by drawing down her apron like a flag, and scattering her tears with a laugh, that sent them flying, as a burst of sunshine puts an April shower to rout.

"Now I must go—I must go right off. Where is my hood? Oh! hanging by the strings to my neck. And the match-basket? Thank you, Miss Constance. Now I'm all right. But tell me who it was bought the shawl? I didn't know there was so much money within a mile of here. Must tell me, now, who it was that bought it."

"Oh! a friend of mine—rich as rich can be."

"A friend of yours, and so awful rich?"

"Yes; he is awful rich! You need not look so surprised. He is——"

"You say he—was it a man? What did any man want with a shawl?"

"Men have relations—don't they, goosey?"

"Relations? Yes—and wives. Perhaps the gentleman bought it for his wife," persisted Rhoda, tying her hood on again.

As the child turned to take her basket from the table, she saw that a flood of scarlet was just dying away from Constance's face and neck, leaving a strange and disagreeable expression there.

"I hope you're not sorry for what you have done?" she said, anxiously.

"Sorry? No! Well, perhaps I am a little."

"Oh, dear! I hope not!" cried the child, clenching her tiny hand hard on the money.

"Get along! Get along! It is all the same to you. But you haven't told me who the shawl belonged to."

"Oh! I couldn't do that, you know."

"But why not?"

"It is a secret from every one, and she trusted me," said Rhoda, proudly—"only me!"

"Well, keep your secret; what do I care! Come back! Come back! There is some one coming up. Is it Sterling, or anybody you know—just look out?"

"It is Mr. Sterling."

"Oh!"

"Why, what is the matter? I thought you liked Mr. Sterling ever so much."

"But I don't! You have no right to think so! It's impertinent!"

The little girl was puzzled. She played with the matches in her basket a moment, and then lifted her eyes to Constance in honest doubt.

"You seemed to, Miss Constance; and I know he likes you better than anything."

Constance flung herself to the other side of the little room, impatiently rejecting this honest assertion; but her face was troubled, and Rhoda saw that she held her breath to listen till a door below opened and closed.

"Well, good-bye! It's time for me to be going—the money burns my hand. Good-bye! Shut the door when you come down, and put the key under the mat, where father can find it."

Away went Rhoda after this, leaving Constance in the room alone, listening, like a criminal, to be sure that she would not meet her young husband in going down. Bold as she was, the creature could not find courage for that.