“Here is something for you, Rachel. One of the
boys from the harbor brought it up. He was bound
to give it into your own hands — said that was his
orders. I just took it and sent him to the right-about — told him I'd give it to you at once, and that
that was all that was necessary.”
She spoke coldly. She knew quite well who had sent the basket, and she resented it; but her resentment was not quite strong enough to overcome her curiosity. She stood silently by while Rachel unpacked the basket.
Rachel’s hands trembled as she took off the cover. Two huge pink-spotted shells came first. How well she remembered them! Beneath them, carefully wrapped up in a square of foreign-looking, strangely scented silk, was the dragon teapot. She held it in her hands and gazed at it with tears gathering thickly in her eyes.
“Your father sent that,” said Isabella Spencer with an odd sound in her voice. “I remember it well. It was among the things I packed up and sent after him. His father had brought it home from China fifty years ago, and he prized it beyond anything. They used to say it was worth a lot of money.”
“Mother, please leave me alone for a little while,” said Rachel, imploringly. She had caught sight of a little note at the bottom of the basket, and she felt
