“I have lost my tortoiseshell lozenge-box. I fear the kitten has rolled it away,” said the tiny old lady, involuntarily continuing her beaver-like notes.

“Is it a great treasure, aunt?” said Mr. Farebrother, putting up his glasses and looking at the carpet.

“ Mr. Ladislaw gave it me,” said Miss Noble. “A German box⁠—very pretty, but if it falls it always spins away as far as it can.”

“Oh, if it is Ladislaw’s present,” said Mr. Farebrother, in a deep tone of comprehension, getting up and hunting. The box was found at last under a chiffonier, and Miss Noble grasped it with delight, saying, “it was under a fender the last time.”