road, and appealing for sympathy to her companions.
"It's a perfect shame, the way he has rumpled your dresses, Maisie, and upset that tray you packed so nice and close. You will never be able to get the things back again in the world, and, if you do, one half of them will be broken before we reach home. And there's your new fur cape all out of fold. I told you to wear it, or carry it in on your arm. No! that is not a present; at least I think not, is it, Maisie?" as a small brown paper parcel, carefully tied, was held up by the inspector for scrutiny.
"I can't tell till I open it," said the girl, reaching over, and very deliberately unfastening the string. "You don't remember what this is, do you, mother? Oh! I see—a piece of camphor. No, it's not a present. We brought it from America. Lasts beautifully, doesn't it?" returning the parcel with a smile. "Would you mind wrapping it up again? It's so very hard to tie anything in gloves."
Apparently the inspector did mind, for he
