"You've taken one!--You didn't wait." Then her voice changed to a motherly admonition, and she began to interfere.

"This is the way to do it, look! Let me help you." But Marjory drew back with resentment.
"Don't, Millicent!--Don't!" came the childish cry.

But Millicent's fingers itched.
At length Marjory had got out her treasure--a little silvery bell with a glass top hanging inside.

The bell was made of frail glassy substance, light as air.
"Oh, the bell!" rang out Millicent's clanging voice.

"The bell! It's my bell.