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'.