“This is what was inside,

The little box of incense lay at the back of the drawer where Hortense had expected to find it. She laid it on top of Grandfather’s desk.

It was really necessary to have a light in order to see what she was about, but a lamp or candle, either one, seemed out of place. There should be only enough light to see the expression on the face of the image. In a half-darkness, she thought, he would be more likely to speak.

She raised the window shades and threw the shutters open. Moonlight filled the room dimly and fell upon the bronze image, sitting as expressionless as ever, immovable. Hortense’s heart failed her. Nothing, she felt, would ever bring words to the closed lips or a flutter to the heavy eyelids. However, there was nothing to do but try.

She poured a little of the incense on an ash tray and touched a match to it. The wisp of smoke, pallid in the moonlight, curled slowly upwards and was lost to sight. A strong sweet odor filled the room.

Hortense moved the tray to the edge of the desk directly in front of the image and sat down in her Grandfather’s chair to wait, her eyes fixed upon the calm round face before her. It looked like the face of a woman she thought, not that of a man.

She could see not the slightest change in the image after ever so long a time, though her eyes never left it. The incense was slowly consumed, and Hortense arose and added more. Still she watched, endlessly it seemed, until finally her eyes closed and she must have slept for a little, for when she opened them again the moonlight was far brighter than before and the image stood out in the fanciful shadows.

Yes, surely, the hand that now lay open had been raised and closed before. And the eyes looked at her instead of over her! Her heart beat quicker.

“You have moved,” she said without thinking.

There was a slight stir of the bronze lips; then a soft measured voice said, “I wait, what is it you ask?”

“I should like,” Hortense said, “to get back my charm.”

“Jeremiah has it,” said the Image, “and Jeremiah is getting to be a nuisance. I shall have to cut his claws.”

How the Image could cut Jeremiah’s claws, Hortense didn’t see.

“That is to say,” the Image went on, “he needs to be taken down.”

Down to what, Hortense wondered. She sat a long while waiting for the Image to say more, but apparently it had gone back to sleep.

“Dear me, how slow it is!” Hortense said to herself. “I suppose it’s like Grandfather’s Clock and has all the time in the world.”

She sat very silent and once or twice almost fell asleep.

The moonlight continued its slow and silent way across the floor until at last it rested full upon the Image.

“If you will take a paper knife,” said the Image as though it had ceased speaking but a moment before, “and trace the flower pattern on my back, beginning in the center, you will find something.”

Hortense, wondering, did as she was told. On the back of the Image, as it had said, was the pattern of a flower. Hortense followed the curves of its petals with the point of the knife. Then to her surprise the flower swung inward on an invisible hinge and there before her was an opening just large enough for her hand. Her fingers closed on something round and hard like a marble, which in the moonlight shone with little bright flashes and crinkles of gold and blue and rose. Hortense knew it was some precious stone.

As she sat with it in her hand, she heard the soft patter of feet along the hall, and in a moment two great green eyes shone in the doorway. Hortense sat very still with the jewel sparkling in her hand. Jeremiah came forward a step or two, and then suddenly he spat so loudly that Hortense jumped.

With a howl Jeremiah turned and ran like one possessed. Hortense could hear his claws scratching on the stairs as he raced up and up, out of hearing. On the threshold of the door before her lay a small white object. Hortense stooped and picked it up. It was the monkey charm! She fastened it about her neck and turned to thank the Image. But the Image said never a word just sat as motionless, staring into the distance, as though it had never spoken.

Hortense went to bed with the jewel tightly clutched in her hand and fell fast asleep. In the morning she went down to breakfast in high spirits, hardly believing that what had happened was real. In her hand still was the wonderful jewel which shone and sparkled as though lit with a thousand colored fires. She kept it hidden in her lap while she ate, and when she had finished, she followed her Grandfather into the library.

“Some one has been burning incense,” said Grandfather, looking at her.

Hortense nodded and played with the monkey charm about her neck.

“I did it,” she said.

Thereupon she climbed on Grandfather’s knee and told him the whole story from the beginning. Grandfather said never a word, but from time to time he looked at Hortense as though he couldn’t believe what she said. When she spoke of the flower on the back of the image, he turned it around and traced the pattern with the point of the paper knife as Hortense had done. The little door opened as before. Grandfather looked in.

“This is what was inside,” Hortense said and opened her hand in which was the jewel.

Grandfather took it and examined it gravely.

“Do you remember the story I told you about my friend who sought a rare jewel and who, when he died, sent me this image? This must be the jewel he found. It has lain here all these years. It is very strange that you should have found it as you did your story is very strange. But for the jewel, and the disappearance of the sofa and the firedogs, I could scarcely believe it.”

“If you’ll come, I’ll show you the little door and the tunnel,” Hortense said.

“It would be too small for me to approach,” Grandfather said, “and I am much too old to eat thirteen cookies.”

“But,” Hortense urged, “I want you to go with me to see the Little People. I must get Alligator and Coal and Ember back.”

Grandfather shook his head.

“If you visit the Little People again, I fear it will have to be with your own friends. But wait a while. We’ve had enough surprising experiences for a time.”

“It’s really Jeremiah who is the cause of everything,” Hortense said.

As she spoke Jeremiah walked in slowly, a very dejected cat.

“Come here, sir,” Grandfather said sternly.

Jeremiah meowed plaintively and jumped on Grandfather’s knee.

“I hear you’ve been up to tricks,” Grandfather said.

Jeremiah hung his head and meowed again.

“I see you are sorry and will not do it again,” Grandfather said. “If you do” Grandfather opened his hand and showed the jewel.

In a flash Jeremiah was off Grandfather’s knee and running down the hall. Grandfather laughed and held up his hand on which was a long red scratch.

“Oh!” Hortense cried, “the Image said he would cut Jeremiah’s claws.”

“That was a figure of speech, evidently,” Grandfather said. “Whenever Jeremiah is bad, we’ll show him the jewel. I’ll keep it for you. It must be very valuable. Some day it will be yours.”

But Hortense thought less of the jewel than of the monkey charm about her neck. Besides, there were Alligator and Coal and Ember, still captive among the Little People. She wished Grandfather hadn’t asked her to keep away from the Little People for a while, though Alligator and Coal and Ember were decidedly able to care for themselves, and Grater was securely bound and unable to do further harm.

“But, of course,” said Hortense, “I can talk to Owl, and Malay Kris, and to Highboy, and Lowboy, and we can lay our plans for the rescue.”