"
Rosa drove off to Phoebe Dale.
Now Phoebe was drinking tea with Reginald Falcon, in her little parlor.
"Who is that, I wonder?" said she, when the carriage drew up.
Reginald drew back a corner of the gauze curtain which had been drawn
across the little glass door leading from the shop.
"It is a lady, and a beautiful--Oh! let me get out." And he rushed out
at the door leading to the kitchen, not to be recognized.
This set Phoebe all in a flutter, and the next moment Mrs. Staines
tapped at the little door, then opened it, and peeped. "Good news! may I
come in?"
"Surely," said Phoebe, still troubled and confused by Reginald's strange
agitation.
"There! It is a diamond!" screamed Rosa. "My husband knew it directly.
He knows everything. If ever you are ill, go to him and nobody else--by
the refraction, and the angle, and its being three times and a half as
heavy as water. It is worth three hundred pounds to buy, and a hundred
and fifty pounds to sell."
"Oh!"
"So don't you go throwing it away, as he did. (In a whisper.) Two
teacups? Was that him? I have driven him away. I am so sorry. I'll go;
and then you can tell him. Poor fellow!"
"Oh, ma'am, don't go yet," said Phoebe, trembling.
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