"Why, one of those diamond things would set us up in life, Phoebe, he said, turning a bracelet over and over in his big red hands.
"Put it down, Luke! Put it down directly!" cried the girl, with a look of terror; "how can you speak about such things?"
He laid the bracelet in its place with a reluctant sigh, and then continued his examination of the casket.
"What's this?" he asked presently, pointing to a brass knob in the frame-work of the box.
He pushed it as he spoke, and a secret drawer, lined with purple velvet, flew out of the casket.
"Look ye here!" cried Luke, pleased at his discovery.
Phoebe Marks threw down the dress she had been folding, and went over to the toilette table.
"Why, I never saw this before," she said; "I wonder what there is in it?"
There was not much in it; neither gold nor gems; only a baby's little worsted shoe rolled up in a piece of paper, and a tiny lock of pale and silky yellow hair, evidently taken from a baby's head. Phoebe's eyes dilated as she examined the little packet.
"So this is what my lady hides in the secret drawer," she muttered.
"It's queer rubbish to keep in such a place," said Luke, carelessly.
The girl's thin lip curved into a curious smile.
"You will bear me witness where I found this," she said, putting the little parcel into her pocket.
"Why, Phoebe, you're not going to be such a fool as to take that," cried the young man.
"I'd rather have this than the diamond bracelet you would have liked to take," she answered; "you shall have the public house, Luke."