"No—that is—yes. I have had it since the night before I came here," Celia answered, rather confusedly.
"Oh, I suppose Sir Jasper Amery gave it to you?"
"Yes."
Celia turned her back upon her friend, and pretended to be searching in a drawer for her gloves, for she was conscious that her face was crimson. Lulu, however, was thinking of the brooch, and not of its wearer; she seemed quite excited.
"Why, Celia, the stones must be real diamonds!" she exclaimed. "I thought, at first, they were only paste; but if Sir Jasper gave you the brooch, you may depend upon it the stones are real."
"Yes, I know they are," Celia admitted, reflecting that she might as well tell the truth when she could safely do so. "The brooch belonged to his wife."
"And he gave it to you? How wonderfully kind of him! You must indeed be a great favourite of his, Celia. Oh, you lucky girl to have diamonds like that! They must be worth a heap of money."
"I expect so."
"I remember hearing my father say that the late Lady Amery had very valuable jewels. Mind you don't lose your brooch! Is the pin quite firm? Yes, that's right. Now, if you're ready we'll go downstairs, for it's quite time to start."
In the hall they found Mr. Tillotson awaiting them. He scanned the two girls approvingly, but did not particularly notice Celia's brooch, and, much to Celia's relief, Lulu did not call his attention to it.
The flower show proved a very great success, and the number of people who attended it far exceeded everyone's expectations. The flowers, fruit, and vegetables were exhibited under the shelter of tents, whilst a military band was in attendance. After the opening ceremony, Mr. Tillotson kindly devoted himself to his young companions, and drew their attention to the rarest exhibits; but he soon found they were far more interested in the people than in the flowers, and when after exchanging a few words of conversation with a friend he looked around and found they had disappeared, he did not seek for them, telling himself he would be sure to come across them again before very long.
Meanwhile, Lulu and Celia wandered from one tent to another, watching the crowd, admiring the light summer gowns of the ladies, and criticising everyone they saw. Now and then they met people Lulu knew, and Celia was introduced to a great many strangers who were favourably impressed by her winning manners and pretty face. One old lady Celia overheard called her a "sweet child," which made her heart swell with happiness; but she was considerably taken aback when she heard some one else say:
"Where did she get that brooch, I wonder? It's spurious, of course. Most unsuitable for a girl of that age!"
"Celia, we have not seen Miss Pring's onions," Lulu whispered at length. "I confess I am curious to know if they have taken a prize. Let us pay a visit to the vegetable tent, shall we?"
"Yes, if you like. Oh, look, there's Miss Mary Pring talking to Mr. Cole! Miss Pring is sure to be here somewhere. I knew she was coming."
The Vicar and his companion did not notice the two girls, for they were closely examining some cut dahlia blooms.
"We won't speak to them now," Celia continued; "let us go and look at the vegetables."
They accordingly did so. It was not nearly so crowded in the vegetable tent, so they had little difficulty in finding the stall where the onions were laid out for inspection.
"'First prize: Miss Pring, Home Vale, Crumleigh,'" Lulu read out, examining one of the tickets. "Well, I'm glad. They are beauties, aren't they, Celia? Such monsters! They deserve the first prize. There can be no doubt about that. Oh, look, Celia, there's Miss Pring herself standing near the entrance with father."
"Need we speak to her?" Celia inquired.
"I suppose we must; and I should rather like to congratulate her on having won the first prize. Yes, father's beckoning to us. Come along. You'll see how she'll try to take the conceit out of me."
But Miss Pring made no such attempt to-day. She was in high good-humour, and the little girls' white frocks met with her approval.
"How cool and nice you both look," she said, after she had shaken hands with them. "Your father has been wondering where you were, Lulu. One can easily miss another in a crowd like this."
"We have been looking at your onions," Lulu replied. "I am so glad they have taken the first prize."
"So am I," said Celia.
"So am I," echoed Miss Pring, a pleased smile lighting up her plain countenance. "I feel my labour is rewarded. By the way, Celia, I saw your sister yesterday; she took tea with us at Home Vale, and desired me to keep my eyes open for you at the flower show, and report to her how you are looking, so you must not think me rude if I regard you scrutinously, for Joy will be certain to ask me scores of questions about you when I see her next."
Miss Pring paused, and much to Celia's alarm, fixed her eyes on the butterfly brooch, which, for the moment, the little girl had quite forgotten. She made no remark, however, though she certainly wondered where Celia had procured the ornament; she herself was not a judge of jewels, and she concluded the diamonds were merely Parisian—never for an instant did she dream they were real.
"Have you seen your brother?" Miss Pring inquired, removing her eyes from the brooch to Celia's countenance, which evinced astonishment at her question.
"No! Eric? Is he here?"
"Yes. He came with Mr. Cole and Lawrence Puttenham. You will be sure to run across him directly."
Celia was delighted at the prospect of meeting her brother, and her fair face beamed with happiness until she suddenly bethought herself again of the butterfly brooch. She knew Eric's sharp eyes would immediately notice it, and that he would question her about it. What should she do? She began to wish the brooch was securely locked away in Sir Jasper's safe, instead of being in her possession.
Mr. Tillotson insisted on Miss Pring and the two girls now accompanying him to the refreshment tent, where they all had tea. There they encountered Miss Mary Pring and Mr. Cole, and Celia was uncomfortably conscious that the former took note of her brooch with considerable surprise, though she made no comment upon it. Then Celia caught sight of Eric and his friend, at the far end of the tent, eating ices, and the pleasure she experienced at the sight of her brother was spoilt by the fear that the moment they met he would commence to ply her with embarrassing questions about her borrowed ornament.
"I see Eric and Lawrence Puttenham," she said to Lulu, "I should like to speak to them. Won't you come with me and be introduced to them?"
Lulu agreed readily, for she was curious to see her friend's brother, of whom she had heard so much. So the girls began to make their way slowly through the crowd.
Seizing a favourable opportunity when her companion's eyes were turned away from her, Celia unfastened the butterfly brooch and slipped it into her pocket. She was vexed to be obliged to hide it, but reflected that it was better to do that than to have to account for it to Eric.
Eric met his sister warmly, and Celia introduced Lulu to him and to Lawrence Puttenham.
"Will you have some ices?" Eric inquired, politely, looking from one girl to the other.
They both thanked him, but declined, saying they had been having tea; and as the boys had finished their ices, they all strolled out into the open air, where they were soon joined by the Misses Pring, Mr. Tillotson, and Mr. Cole.
Eric found an opportunity for a short conversation with his sister alone, and gave her an account of the doings of the inmates of the Moat House during her absence, including the story of Sir Jasper's generosity to the Crumleigh Cricket Club, to all of which Celia listened with the greatest interest.
"How is Joy getting on with Uncle Jasper?" she asked at length.
"Rather better," was the reply. "He asks her to play the piano to him every evening now."
Celia appeared very pleased, and her pretty face lit up with a bright smile as she exclaimed:
"Oh, that's right! I'm glad of that. Does Joy miss me much?"
"Don't know, I'm sure. She doesn't say. I say, Celia, your friend Lulu looks rather jolly."
"She is rather jolly," Celia agreed, with a laugh.
"I shall tell mother how well that white frock suits you," he said with decided approval in his tone, as he looked her over critically. "She" —nodding his head at Lulu, who at a little distance was talking animatedly with her other friends— "would look better if she didn't wear so many ornaments and fal-lals. She reminds me of the little girl in the nursery rhyme, made of 'ribbons and rings, and all fine things.'"
Celia smiled at this, but she looked a little uneasy. Suddenly she asked:
"Eric, do you think you could lend me a few shillings?"
"What! You don't mean to say you've spent the whole of that sovereign Uncle Jasper gave you?" he exclaimed, in accents of intense surprise.
"Yes, I do. You needn't look so astonished. How often have I heard you say that money slips away in the most remarkable manner!"
"So it does," he agreed.
"There were so many things I wanted, and Lulu spends so much, and—and I've only a few coppers left."
"Well, you're welcome to these," Eric said, counting three shillings into her hand. "I'm afraid I can't let you have more. Shall I ask mother to send you—"
"No, no! And, please don't tell her I've spent all my money. This will be plenty for what I want. Thank you so much. I daresay you think I've been extravagant, but a sovereign is not a lot of money, after all."
Eric was silent whilst he reflected that not so very long ago Celia would have considered a sovereign almost a small fortune. Times were changed indeed.
"I say, Celia," he said presently, "there's something I want to speak to you about. Was it you, by any chance, who had been reading that novel which Wag tore up?"
"What makes you ask that?" Celia questioned, the colour flooding her face.
"Never mind. Tell me—was it you?"
"No."
Celia spoke the lie direct, with a boldness which almost astonished herself. Eric looked relieved, for the bare suspicion that Celia had allowed Joy to suffer for her fault had been repugnant to him.
"Then I suppose the book really must have belonged to one of the servants after all!" he exclaimed. "But I know you do read literature of that sort. Putty saw you in a shop the other day with Lulu Tillotson looking over a lot of trashy novels."
"Putty saw me!" Celia cried, wrathfully. "What right had he to spy on me?"
"He was not spying on you. He was in the shop with Mr. Cole, and he couldn't help seeing you. I don't think mother would like you to read silly books like—"
"Oh, Eric, you won't tell her!"
"Am I a sneak, Celia? But, you oughtn't to read what you know she would disapprove of. It isn't straight of you. I don't believe you'd have done it a year ago."
This was true, and Celia knew it. She hung her head, and when she looked up again, her blue eyes were swimming in tears. She was wondering what her brother would think of her if he knew of the brooch in her pocket, and how she had procured it. She was very sensitive on the point of what people thought of her, and set great store on the good opinion of all with whom she was in any way connected; but she rarely paused to consider nowadays what He thought of her, whose approval should have been her first consideration; and yet, like Joy and Eric, when a tiny child her mother had taught her to say: "Thou God seest me," and almost her first lesson in life had been to learn the meaning of those solemn words.
Eric said no more, and they rejoined their friends; but Celia was unusually subdued in spirits for the rest of the day. She had not relished being taken to task by her brother, though it was not until after they had said good-bye that she commenced to feel actual resentment against him. She came to the conclusion that he had had no right to question her as he had done, and that it was no business of his how she chose to amuse herself.
The August evening was closing in when Mr. Tillotson took the two girls home. They assured him they had spent a pleasant, happy time, and ran upstairs to divest themselves of their best frocks. Then it was that Celia, as she took the butterfly brooch from her pocket, and carefully placed it, as before, at the bottom of her box, was forced to acknowledge to herself that the glittering jewel had spoilt her perfect enjoyment of the flower show, and that she had paid for her vanity with an uneasy mind.
CHAPTER XVIII. CELIA'S LOSS.
"THE weather is hopeless, there's no doubt about that," said Lulu Tillotson, as she lolled on a sofa in her bedroom, on the afternoon subsequent to the flower show. "What a good thing it was it did not rain like this yesterday; if it had the show would have been an utter failure. Oh, dear me, I'm tired of everything—the day, the weather, and myself!"
Celia, who was seated in a comfortable wicker chair, with her feet on an ottoman, and a novel on her knee, made no response. She had come to a most entertaining point in her story, and had no desire to be interrupted. Her taste for light literature was increasing, fed as it had been by a series of sensational stories during the past fortnight. Lulu regarded her with a decidedly discontented expression on her face. She was in the humour for conversation, and seeing her friend was not, she proceeded crossly:
"Do you hear what I say, Celia? Talk, and make yourself agreeable, do! You're not a very cheerful companion for a wet day. Do you always consider your own pleasure before other people's?"
Celia closed the book, and looked up with a flash of resentment in her eyes. Lulu was not very polite to her, considering she was a visitor, she thought; but she refrained from uttering the retort which rose to her lips, and replied pacifically:
"I don't know what you mean, Lulu. I'm quite ready to talk. But what's wrong?"
"Everything! I feel so ill-tempered and dissatisfied."
