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 "What box?" asked Fen, looking down. "Where did it come from? It's not mine."

"It must be—it was in your lap. Come, don't tell me that you don't know your own boxes. What's inside?"

"I don't know," said Fen. "Really, I never saw it before. Do you think I'd better open it?"

"Of course," said Siddereticus; and Fen undid the little plaited grass string which fastened the box, and opened it.

Within, on soft cotton, lay two tiny glass vases. They seemed like soap-bubbles, they were so thin, so opalescent, faintly penciled with yellowish lines.

"Are they real?" whispered Fen; "could you touch them?"

Siddereticus took one out by its thread-like handle, and against the light it seemed almost to disappear, a filmy opal bubble.

"Where did the lovely, lovely things