Peckover walked thinking all the way up-stairs, so did
Zack walk wondering all the way home.
What the deuce could these extraordinary remonstrances about his
present to Madonna possibly mean? Was it not at least clear from Mrs.
Peckover's terror when he talked of asking Blyth whether Madonna really
had a Hair Bracelet, that she had told the truth after all? And was it
not even plainer still that she had let out a secret in telling that
truth, which Blyth must have ordered her to keep? Why keep it? Was this
mysterious Hair Bracelet mixed up somehow with the grand secret about
Madonna's past history, which Valentine had always kept from him and
from everybody? Very likely it was--but why cudgel his brains about
what didn't concern him? Was it not--considering the fact, previously
forgotten, that he had but fifteen shillings and threepence of
disposable money in the world--rather lucky than otherwise that Mrs.
Peckover had taken it into her head to stop him from buying what he
hadn't the means of paying for? What other present could he buy for
Madonna that was pretty, and cheap enough to suit the present state of
his pocket? Would she like a thimble? or an almanack? or a pair of
cuffs? or a pot of bear's grease?
Here Zack suddenly paused in his mental interrogatories; for he had
arrived within sight of his home in Baregrove Square.
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