THE STORY OF MABEL'S MERINO DRESS.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 1169, 16 November 1871, Page 3

THE STORY OF MABEL'S MERINO DRESS.

[Concluded]. On Sunday morning at breakfast, the children showed him their watches and doll. I said nothing about the dress, for it struck me he was looking anxious. ;. "Where's your breast-pin, Mabel ?" he asked, as the children ran out before the door after breakfast. ; The breast-pin ! I was frightened at once. He had never asked after it or noticed it before. He must haVe heard of what I'd done, and was angry. ; : " Father, I have not got it I" I exclaimed at once, ready to cry. " Not got it ! What do you mean, child ? You surely wore it yesterday 3" ; " Yes, sir," I replied. " and it's all safe. I was just goiDg to tell -you about it when you frightened me." ' k " Well, I don't wißh to frighten you, my dear ; I had no thought of such a thing. Calm yourself, Mabel, while I tell you of a letter I received yesterday, and then you can get the Din at your leisure. You can get it?" "I can get it, father. Or, rather, you can. But I hope you.will not blame me. What have you heard about it ?" '■■ '• Well, my dear, listen. We have never attached any value to that old pin, only that a good, kind woman gave it to your mother to keep for you, and bo we did keep it because of that. She was a stranger to us, poor lady, and was in distress, and your rijother was kind to her. But she left the place soon after you were born, and we never heard more of her. Yesterday, however, I got a letter from a .long distance, asking about that very pin, and describing it, even to. the name on the back; It is very valuable, Mabel." ' My heart was beating ten strokes where it should have beat but one. "The pin we have Bet no store by is of great value, Mabel. The centre diamond alone is worth what to us poor people would ;be a fortune. And it is all yours, my dear ; you can convert the diamonds into money and be at ease for life." ; What with the overpowering surprise and what with fear of my father's anger, I fainted. iWhen I came to myself on the sofa in the parlour the childrenwere there, and it was top late to go to church.; I felt bewildered, and trembled yet, but listened attentively to my father as he read the important letter from London. Then I sprang up wildly. :" Oh father, father, go down to the Black Horse!" I exclaimed; "the pedlar is there, ;and he has my pin." My father's first thought was that the good fortune had turned my brain. I explained aU to him. He was very kind, never scolding me; but— as to finding the pin and the pedlar, he knew more of the world than his foolish child, and was not so hooeful. However, he thought it beat to go, and- for me to go with him. So in a few moments we were walking ; down to the Black Horse. The landlord was sitting alone in his front porch, smoking quietly. He looked surprised when we walked up the steps, but very politely invited us into the parlour, explaining that his women folks had gone to church. j " Is there a pedlar staying with you, Mr Fbrd ?" began my father. ;" A pedlar ?— no," exclaimed the landlord, ad if the question vexed him; "I have not seen a pedlar for three weeks, and the one tljat was here then did not pay his bill." I must have turned very pale at this, and felt faint again. Mr Ford wanted me to take a.cordial. My father turned it off, saying I was tired. Then he said that I had made a little bargain with a pedlar the day before, ahd that we wished to settle with him. " Got cheated, I warrant," said the bluff old landlord; " but no such man came to this house yesterday. I do;. recollect now that Joe, my ostler, said he saw a fellow with a big black box or bundle' come up the bank from the creek just after the stage passed; but I didn't pay any attention to him." !My father gave up all hope at once; but I could not believe my fortune was gone. He tried to comfort me, saying I was just as well of| as before, and had a new dress into the bargain. How I hated the thought of my beautiful merino ! ' Well, it is of no use to prolong my story, or tell you of aU the efforts made to catch

the adroit thief. He was no pecHar r but a clerk in that very law office from which the letter was sent telling us of the diamonds. He managed to delay the letter to my father for a post or two; hastened away himself, and— obtained my pin. We never found him : we never heard of him. He must have got off somewhere over the sea with his prize. My poor, toiling father, always gentle, did not reproach me; but ever to this day the regret lies heavily on my mind; for what miuht I not have done for him and the dear children with all that money ? And the lady who had given me the pin did not know uutil she was dying the value it was of ; aud that caused the stir. Ah me ! it was one of those chances in life that perhaps we all miss on occasion; the • 5 tide in the affairs of men that taken at the flood leads on to fortune." And about my crimson dress ? For a long while, shabby though I was, I could not look at it, or let it be made up But time soothes troubles. And I must say that it made a charming gown; and one; who was an artist, saw me in it, and made me bis wife. So perhaps it all happened for the best But I'm sure I hope that wicked pedlar — who made believe to speak like a foreigner the better to take me in— came to be hanged 1