"When we find it Cathy and I ought to have turns same as you and Gerald did."
"When you find it?" Mabel's pale face turned paler between her dark locks.
"I'm very sorry—we're all very sorry," began Kathleen, and then the story of the losing had to be told.
"You couldn't have looked properly," Mabel protested. "It can't have vanished."
"You don't know what it can do—no more do we. It's no use getting your quills up, fair lady. Perhaps vanishing itself is just what it does do. You see, it came off my hand in the bed. We looked everywhere."
"Would you mind if I looked?" Mabel's eyes implored her little hostess. "You see, if it's lost it's my fault. It's almost the same as stealing. That Johnson would say it was just the same. I know he would."
"Let's all look again," said Mabel, jumping up. "We were rather in a hurry this morning."
So they looked, and they looked. In the bed, under the bed, under the carpet, under the furniture. They shook the curtains, they explored the corners, and found dust and flue, but no ring. They looked, and they looked. Everywhere they looked. Jimmy even looked fixedly at the ceiling, as though he thought the ring might have bounced up there and stuck. But it hadn't.
"Then," said Mabel at last, "your housemaid must have stolen it. That's all. I shall tell her I think so."
