Then she said somethin' to one o' the guardeens who spoke a
little Portuguese, Father understandin' it a little too, and he told
Father she said these was the drops of her blood he had saved, an' he
must keep it to remember her. Jest like drops of blood, he said the
rubies was, strung along on a gold chain. So he took it, an' said he
warn't likely to forget about it; an' then he made his bow, an' the
guardeens said he was their father, an' their mother, an' their
great-aunt, an' I d' 'no' what all, an' made him stay to supper, an' he
didn't eat nothin' for a week arterward."
The farmer paused, and Hildegarde drew a long breath, "_Oh!_" she cried,
"what a delightful story, Farmer Hartley! And you don't believe it? _I_
do, every word of it! I am _sure_ it is true!"
"Wal, ye see," said the farmer, meditatively; "Ef' t was true, what
become o' the necklace? That's what _I_ say. Father believed it, sure
enough, and he thought he hed that necklace, as sure as you think you
hev that bunnit in yer hand. But 'twarn't never found, hide _nor_ hair
of it."
"Might he not have sold it?" Hilda suggested.
Farmer Hartley shook his head, "No," he said, "he warn't that kind.
Besides, he thought to the day of his death that he hed it, sure enough.
'Thar's the princess's necklace!' he'd say; 'don't ye forgit that,
Wealthy! Along with the di'monds, ye know.' And then he'd laugh like he
was fit to bust. Why, when he was act'lly dyin', so fur gone 't he
couldn' speak plain, he called me to him, an' made signs he wanted to
tell me somethin'.
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