"You know she is awfully opposed to
us girls wearing jewelry. And your locket is lovely. Just think! Platinum
and a real diamond. Why! what is the matter, Betty?"
For Betty had begun scrambling in her bag worse than she had in the bureau
drawer. Everything came out--purse, tickets, gloves, handkerchief, the
tiniest little looking-glass, a letter or two, a silver thimble, two
coughdrops stuck together, a sample of ribbon which she had failed to
match, a most disreputable looking piece of lead-pencil----
But no twist of tissue paper with the locket in it!
"What is the matter?" repeated Bobby, frightened by the expression of the
other girl's face.
"I--I----Oh, Bobby! It's gone!" wailed Betty.
"Not your locket?"
"Yes, my locket!" sobbed Betty, and she sat down on the floor and wept.
"Why, it can't be! Who would take it? When did you see it last? Nobody
here in the house would have stolen it, Betty."
"It--it must have dropped out of my bag. Oh! what shall I do? I can't tell
Uncle Dick."
"He won't punish you for losing it, will he?"
"But think how he'll feel! And how I'll feel!" wailed Betty.
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